


Play With Me

by Insomniackid7



Series: Play With Me [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Animal Play, BDSM, Dom/sub, F/F, Master/Pet, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Play, Sex Toys, So much trash in one fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniackid7/pseuds/Insomniackid7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss Schnee, Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, Perfectionist, and Part-time model. No one would suspect that she has a fantasy, a fetish.<br/>Pet play.<br/>Join Weiss as she and her girlfriend/Mistress, Blake stumble about trying to get a handle on this new part of their lives and how it spirals into a new world they’ve never been privy to until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accept Me

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! After months of waiting, ever since Not Safe For Work, ever since the holiday specials, we now come to the main attraction. The core fic of it all. Play With Me. Ive been working hard to get this out to you and I am so pleased with myself, and I hope you guys enjoy!

The clock is unbearably loud, each tick and spike in your heart, each tock a doubt in your mind. You sigh, you simply must get yourself together, it’s only…5:03. Really? Feels like forever. Today is the day. The day you ask the question that’s been on your mind for ages;

Today you ask your girlfriend Blake to be your Owner.

Just thinking about it makes you blush. Then there’s the fact that you are wearing the very same light blue collar she put on you when you met her, and matching leather wristcuffs. You play with the envelope in your hands; a little something to have all your bases covered, Weiss Schnee always anticipates every obstacle.

But…what if she says no?

No, that’s crazy. Isn’t it? Blake wouldn’t…but what if you’re pushing it? What if she’s not ready? Ugh, you shake your head of those pesky thoughts. Blake’s made it more than clear she wants you. Badly. She already knows about your…proclivities…and hasn’t shown any sign of being bothered by it. Even when there are times she caught glimpse of you rushing to take off your collar before she enters your condo. You’ve taken to wearing it when no one else is around or expected, you just got so caught up in work you nearly forgot to take it off.

Then there’s the make-outs. Those wonderful, wonderful, hot make-outs—wonderful and unsatisfactory, unfortunately. It starts with little pecks, turning to actual kisses, then tongues are added, and before you know it, you’re on top of each other and hands start wandering, or hips grind desperately. You both manage to stop and keep it under control, leaving both parties flustered. When she goes home you have to take care of things yourself, almost exclusively your “fantasy material” centers around her.

When you and the faunus got together there was a lot of talking and some lighthearted threats, but you and Blake agreed that jumping into it was a bad idea and wanted to build a foundation of trust. She shared her own secrets; about her tail and other feline habits and features.

That textured tongue is probably your favorite.

Of course, you did do a background check. She wasn’t too mad when you told her—after the fact. Understanding that as an Heiress to one of the most, if not _the_ most (in)famous and important companies in all of remnant, the Schnee dust company. Therefore you are in the public eye all the time, and there have been plenty who have or would attempt to blackmail or exploit you. It’s just a standard risk.

She passed with flying colors besides some speeding tickets and a misunderstanding when apprehending a shoplifter at her work, Ozcapades. Not to mention she’s easily the most perfect relationship you ever had, not that you’ve had many, but she’s just…wow. You can’t help sigh and tilt side to side like a crushing schoolgirl. She cooks for you, she’s intelligent, humorous, understanding, listens to your tirades about the incompetents at your work, knows little random things about you like what coffee you like and how, and she loves to snuggle with you, which is something that you never expected to like as much as you do.

Over the last month you’ve been struggling to decide when you wanted to pop the question. But you draw the line at four months. Any more than that and you might explode. You’ve waited, and now is the time.

Actually it’s 5:11 and she’s not due until 5:30-ish.

God, you hate waiting.

You go around to the back of the black nine-seat couch and sit on top of it, staring at the door as if your will could accelerate time. Soon your mind becomes preoccupied with _other_ thoughts, the blush burns and you wish she’d get here already.

* * *

After an eternity you hear the elevator chime. Then what seems like silence when in reality it’s Blake’s silent footsteps. She knocks and your hearts speeds up so fast that it hurts and you really might just have a heart attack at the young age of 23. Your mind fills up with loud blaring and negative thoughts, making it hard to do more than stare at the door. You feel cold, regretting the baby blue off the shoulders shirt and the short white skirt you chose, even the black stockings and garters do little to battle the elements.

Blake knocks again, breaking through your worries, “Weiss? You in there? It’s me.” Your head snaps up and the bell on your collar rings, reminding you of what it took to get here, the trust, the patience, and the long talks. Weiss Schnee is not going to back down from getting what she wants.

“C-co-come i-in.” Apparently your voice doesn’t get the memo.

The door is unlocked for the first time ever since you got here, and when Blake steps through, you feel…relieved, you’re nervous still, but incredibly giddy.  
“Sorry it took so long, traffic was a—a-a-a…” Her voice trails off and you try to pry your eyes off the floor and into her eyes. Her face is stunned and her jaw is working its way to the floor. Blake’s eyes go from focused slits to dilated discs of black and a rim of burning amber.

There’s a silence in the room and Blake keeps raking her eyes up and down your form, getting stuck on the light blue collar on your neck. Your face feels hot, like lava, and is probably just as red. “C-close the door, please.” You squeak.

Blake doesn’t take her eyes off and robotically slams the door with more force than necessary. With her staring like that, you wondered how you would even _doubt_ Blake’s attraction to you, or even how much she wants to participate in your fantasies.

Slowly, the faunus seems to have rebooted her brain and slowly walks over on over, a little unsteady on her feet. She stops in front of you staring down while you look up. From this distance, her fang biting her lips is far easier to see. Her tanned hand goes up and lightly touches from your shoulder, dips its thumb to caress your clavicle as it travels up, and finally her fingers reach your neck and feel the lined leather on your neck. Your hands start to travel, going up from Blake’s denim-clad hips and to the hem of her shirt, pausing until she gets the hint to unravel her tail from her waist. With her other hand she rips off the purple beanie and tosses it elsewhere.

If you’re going to bear it all, then she will too.

Blake’s throat bobs as she swallows, “S-so, you have something to ask me?” the hand not familiarizing itself with your collar plays with the ring on one of your cuffs. The faunus’ tail unconsciously wraps around your leg, her tail is lightly shivering in arousal.

You feel so empowered right now, it helps you feign confidence, “Yes, I do.” Her abs are magnificent to feel, even through the cotton of her shirt. “How about we sit down?”

Instead of answering, two strong arms wrap around your lithe body and suddenly you are being hugged to a chest and are flying through the air for a short moment while Blake keeps you close. Somehow you land in her lap facing her, hands on your hips. With your neck right in front of her she can see the placard that says “ _Mine_ ”, and behind it _“Property of Miss Blake Belladonna. If found call this number and I shall retrieve my pet._ ” A pink tongue swipes past her lips.

Your well-prepared speech goes out the window and you struggle for a moment, powerless in Blake’s hungry stare, “Um. S-so as you know—uh—you are well of aware of m-my er—”  

“—Fetish?”

“Y-yes that.” You badly wish you had your note cards and didn’t insist that memorizing it was as good. Memory really doesn’t matter when your brain stops working. “Ahem. Pet play,” your voice cracks and you try to ignore the amused smirk, “Requires a dom—or dominant and a p-pe-pet—”

“You don’t have to explain, I know the ins and outs.”

Squinting, relief comes from not having to go any further, but now you are missing any excuse to drag this out, “Well. Yes. Right.” Get it together, Schnee. Hemming and Hawing is not welcome here. “Blake Belladonna, if you want to—would y-you do me the honor o-of being m-my…” _THIS ISN’T A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL…_ “Would you want to be my…Owner?” your voice decreases to a whisper but her smile tells you that she heard it loud and clear.

“Weiss, honey, dear, apple of my eye; _that_ was the most painful thing I’ve ever heard.” You blush and slump so her shoulder is bearing the weight of a wrinkled forehead. You slap her arm lightly as a scolding move. It makes her just laugh. This was a terrible idea. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

“Are you going to keep making fun of me?”

“Yes.” you groan, “Weiss…I know how much this means to you, and how hard it is to even say.” Blake’s voice is so sweet in earnest you sigh and slowly sit up. When you do she holds your left cheek and you lean into the touch, humming when she lightly runs her thumb across the bottom of your scar. It’s nice. Everyone else tries to pretend it doesn’t exist or insist that it be covered up, but Blake accepts all of you. “And who would turn down a cute request like that?”

Your eyes widen, “You mean—?”

“Yes. I will be your Owner and you will belong to me,” The faunus thumbs the placard that was quickly gaining more weight behind its words, “And me alone.”

Your heart swells and you can’t stop yourself from bouncing in place and hugging her tightly enough that she chokes momentarily. She doesn’t do anything to pry you off, though, instead hugging you hard enough around the waist to make you groan.

“I’m—thank you, Blake. I was so scared you’d, well, say no.” her shirt becomes balled in your fists.

She laughs and smiles, gently lifting both clenched hands into hers and holding them, “Weiss, you worry too much. I thought it was more than obvious I wanted to. Besides when you think no one’s looking you are so, so cute messing with your toys.”

“They are important props to better the scene and nothing more!” You blush harder when Blake smirks.

“I think you petting your tails and wearing your ears every so often makes them a tad more than just “props”, Weiss.”

“You’re terrible. This week’s going to be terrible.”

Blake’s brow rises, “This week?”

You bite you lip and look off to the side, “Uh, well. I wanted to make this count? I guess? With my schedule and yours, we will only be able to do this on the weekends, and I know that…” Keep it together, try not to pay attention to ache down below at the very thought of –“Training can take some time. So I took off the rest of the week after a half day tomorrow.”

Blake looks surprised and turned on at the same time, “I uh, can’t take a whole week off like, right now, there’s my shifts and stock and…I mean don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend a whole week with my new pet but…”

“I called for you, pulled a few strings. Ozpin’s a tricky bastard though.”

“Still not over the bow-chicka-wow-wow?”

“Shut up. But I managed to get you three half days and an extended weekend.”

You are rather proud of yourself.

“…Okay so what’d he ask for in return? He’s crafty, even over something as simple as a schedule change.” Blake furrowed her brow.

“A small crate of dust for an “experiment” he said.” When you said ‘experiment’ Blake cringed. “What?”

“That man is…something else. Him saying experiment means a storm of shock and confusion is coming.” You thought it best to not comment. This is a man who sells large fists and arms for fisting, after all.

“Anyhow, with your time now monopolized, I want to show you something.” Giddy, you hop off her lap and grab her hand. Leading her down the hall on the other side of your condo where your bedroom is. A glance back reveals that Blake is rather fond of your short skirt, watching it sway and tease her with a hint of your ass. Her hand twitches, seriously think about groping it, like she is always wont to do. She’s always been a gentlewoman and has resisted the call of your cheeks, but she can’t hide her grabbiness while in the middle of a hot make out. One would think that your ass was the only purchase on a mountain to grab onto the way she grabs and gropes it.

Well you’re in a good mood…

You stop in front of the locked door suddenly, pulling Blake behind you “accidentally”. You bend over a bit to reach the number pad security system. Of course, you don’t have to, but seeing Blake struggle in your peripheral is fun. “Something wrong?”

“No.” The faunus has a good poker face.

“Alright.” You say moving away, “If I was more interested in being a top, I think I’d have fun touching my pet. They would be my property after all.” There’s silence as you punch in the 10 digit code to the highly guarded room. You think you’ve picked up a little of Father’s more paranoid tendencies, but no one can know about this, and just because this building has good security doesn’t mean a determined ill-willed or nosy person couldn’t somehow make it up here. You take a steadying breath. This was different, Blake already knew about your interests, but never how much you’ve invested into this, the culmination of your fantasies. The cold knob goes warm and damp in your gradually sweating palm, the confidence built up is now dissipating, the faunus has already accepted your offer, but it might be—

 _SLAP_!

“Eep!” you squeak. Pain suddenly blooms on your bottom and you’ve been shocked onto your tip-toes. You whirl around and narrow your eyes at the woman behind you, smiling that absolutely infuriating, sexy smirk. Before you can get an offended word out she bends down and kisses you on the forehead.

You’re stunned. You are literally stunned in place, still on your toes and hands protecting your behind from further attacks. You look up, seeing Blake smile, but this time it’s a simple smile, soft and genuine. “Calm down.” She says in a low voice, she holds your face in one hand, as gentle as clouds on a sunny summer day. “You’ve been stuck for almost a minute. I know how much trust you are giving me. And besides, you know I’m stubborn to the end and stick it out. Whatever you got in there, I won’t be scared off. I work with _Ozpin_ for god’s sake.” You giggle, the confidence you had coming back now that you are reassured that your weirdness wouldn’t frighten her or make her see you in a negative light.

Although, in those two minutes of your hesitation and Blake’s reassurances the door has locked itself again.

You blush, and start to input the numbers, “Let me see.” She says, she has to learn the code too. Reaching back, your hand finds hers and you use her index fingers to guide her through the motions, a listen and doing tactic to help cement it in her head. “Okay, got it.” She murmurs, with her chin on your shoulder and her front to your back, the warm weight calms you. The blue lights turn green, accompanied with a high pitched beep and both a pale hand and a sienna hand reaches and turns the knob.

Blake steps in right behind you and her head turns this way and that, light not needed due to faunus night vision. When you do turn on the light, her shocked face is the first thing you see. Golden eyes run right to left, picking up more and more details now that the room was illuminated. She says nothing for a long time before turning around.

_“Damn.”_

Her obvious approval makes you go red and you clear your throat, “Yes, well. I admit to being…overzealous…”

“O-overzealous?” She takes another look around before taking in another breath. “Okay. How about you show me around? Starting with _that._ ” She points to the wall on your right, on it was a door to a large walking closet, but the most eye catching thing was the several cube shelves built into the plum walls of the room going up almost seven feet, a foot or two short of the white crown molding. Each cube was filled with a foldable cloth drawer; many different colors were on the wall, arranged of course in rows. Each hole was moderately deep, especially the very bottom ones which combined two square’s worth of space. In those you have long and wide Rubbermaid tubs. The whole shelving system is bordered by two orange sconce lights on the wall, the same hung throughout the room.

“Here, we have my…collection I guess you could say.” Blake paled. “I bought plenty of _tools_ to use, whatever looked the most interesting. I have them ordered here as they should be, from vibrators, separated by kind and then the last ones on the right are specialized. Same with the…phalluses, in size, girth and style, like textures and…theme.”

Blake looked at you from the corner of her eye, “Bad Dragon?”

You pointedly continue, “There are also plenty of restraints, such as handcuffs, and chains in different sizes and strength for O-rings whether on collar or wristcuffs,” It’s hard to not touch the ones you currently wear, their padding is so comfy and you’ve done some experimenting on your own about how they will feel whenever you pull hard, and you’ve found you quite like the soft material straining against your skin. “Several contain ropes, differentiated by color, length, and thickness. And finally, some important, yet somewhat extraneous items, one is dedicated entirely to batteries, two for, um lube…and the last two for condoms.” She listens to your presentation while opening and peering into the different boxes, nodding along and occasionally rustling around. She nods one last time and seems pleased by your ardent organization.

Blake steps back and rubs her chin. “Very nice. There’s lots of choices. Lots, and lots…and lots.” She shook her head, “Alright, where’s the aftercare stuff or do you have it in the bathroom?”

She turns around when she doesn’t hear an answer, only to lay eyes on your perplexed face, “What are you talking about?”

“What am I—! Aftercare, Weiss? You’ve never heard of it before?” You continue to stare dully at her and shake your head. “Any extra med kits? Bottled water? Nothing?” A raised eyebrow is her only reaction. “We’re going to talk about this later.”

You scoff and move on, feeling a little embarrassed about not being in the know, but you are a beginner and it would be silly for you to know everything off the bat. But maybe taking most of your knowledge from porn sites isn’t the most reputable of information sources.

You take her wrist and pull her over to the walk-in closet. She waits while you open the door only as much as necessary to slip in and hit the light. For right now it’s just holding regular storage, with the exception of the contents a tub or two. You also keep a little guilty pleasure in here. Well, pleasures.  
On the rail you look through the clothes and rub your chin, considering the options. You decide to just randomly pick one by closing your eyes.

Yes, this will do nicely. You won’t put it on for now, but it should certainly give Blake…ideas.

You crack the door open, peering out to see Blake’s expectant look. The closet door slides open slowly and she sees the outfit you have pressed to your front.

It’s fun to see her eyes bug out like they were seconds away from falling if she keep dragging them up and down like that.

Tan skin gives way to red and she places her chin on her palm, fingers hiding the bottom half of her face, this also hid some of the undeniable blush and kept her jaw closed. You don’t even bother to hide the smirk coming across your face. _It seems I’ve stumbled on a guilty pleasure of her own._ The faunus swallows and opens her mouth, still behind the cage, “So…maid, huh? A-a little cliché but it, well, you pull it off perfectly.” Her voice sounds like it’s coming from a dry throat.

“Maybe, but I couldn’t pass it up. I also have a few more in here. Sticking to the classics, I have school girl, nurse, cheerleader, and of course, an angel outfit.” With every choice listed, Blake twitches and slightly leans one way or another like she was getting mentally punched by all the images the ensembles inspired. “I also have the corresponding opposite. And certainly I have more than enough professional wear for librarian or teacher.”

“Would you still like to be a pet while wearing these?” She asks.

“Of course! Or do you think that me with my tail in doing little cheers isn’t cute?” You relish the almost silent groan she makes as she closes her eyes in an attempt to center herself.

She uses both hands to drag down her face, takes a moment to regain her composure, then she clears her throat, “Point made.”

It’s hard not to giggle; the excitement is coming off of Blake in waves. Really, how could you ever even imagine that she wouldn’t be into it? Or, it seems, could not ever be as excited as you are for this moment. Disappearing back into the closet again you put the maid outfit back in its rightful place and smooth out any wrinkles, you have to remember to pull this out soon.

Next, lying in the open space of the closet is the other guilty pleasure. Boy, that trip to the pet store was an embarrassing one.

“Here’s the other thing I have in here. Uh, do you promise to not freak out?”

“I promise.” She says with no hesitation. That makes you feel a little better, but doesn’t alleviate any of the embarrassment.

You drag the item to the door, somewhat expecting that the tinny clanging of metal might give you away. You crack the closet door open once more, Blake stands patiently and upon seeing you peek out she smiles supportively. You pull the door all the way open and roll the surprise out.

Like she said, she doesn’t show any adverse feelings, but instead her eyes sparkle with a feeling that makes you shiver. Her eyebrow raise in surprise and she laughs a little. “Of course. A dog cage.”

Resting on 4 casters is a stainless steel cage, its boarders made up of high quality wood and the sides were steel mesh. It was fairly large, had two doors, one was on the side meant for the pet, and one on the top so the owner can refill the elevated food and water bowls, it was also convenient to pet their dog while it sits on a solid but fluff covered floor.

Blake circles around it, touching the black-dyed wood with a contemplative look. She grabs the mesh and gives it a nice hard shake, but it stays grounded and doesn’t stretch one way or the other.

“It’s made for larger dogs, so it’s a little sturdier should they ram and hit the sides. Plus it’s made of the finest materials money can buy.”

“Wouldn’t be Schnee-worthy otherwise.” The faunus sassed. She opens the top door and messes with the removable bowls for a moment before something occurs to her. “Have you tried it out?”

“What?”

“Have you ever sat inside it?”

The question takes you by surprise, and it makes your face go red, “I…No, I have not.” Blake’s smile is borderline evil, she undoes the side door and opens it gesturing it with an open hand as if she were butler presenting a room to a guest. You fidget, blaming your overwhelming embarrassment and haste in the pet store for this huge oversight. You just wanted to get in and get out, and whilst climbing into a cage in the store can be used as a viable excuse, there’s no reason you couldn’t do it here at home. You’ve had the thing stashed in the closet for two months, yet it never occurred to you.

You frown and glance up at Blake then back to the cage. You gather up your courage and crouch down and climb in. Halfway through you hear a stifled giggle. You glare up at the faunus, who is cheeky enough to grin at you. However, you do note that her eyes are tracking down your body, when she gets to your ass you give it a little wiggle, making her blush at being caught. While completely getting in, you turn in the cage, making sure to “accidently” flash your…sparse…underwear then turn around again. The faunus looks like she’s currently swallowing a rock.

Revenge had, you pay attention to the cage itself. The cushioned bottom is very plush and you don’t feel any discomfort from being on your knees, and the material feels nice when you rub your hands over it. The size is just about perfect, the height is enough that’s there’s room above your head when you sit down with your back ramrod straight. There’s room to turn around, well, enough that you don’t have to curve your back away from the wall so much. You move the minimal distance to the bowls, finding that the elevation seems high enough that your neck won’t be strained.

“Lay down.” You look up to Blake who has a sultry, amused smile on her face as she leans on her folded arms right on top of the cage. You can’t find it in yourself to break eye contact as you stretch out. The length of the cage, unfortunately, is a little short. The top of your shoulders and above are leaning on the steel barrier, despite having bent your legs a little. You frown and try to adjust, but the mesh presses into your skin most uncomfortably. Blake matches your frown. Her finger taps against her chin before she turns around to the bed. You see her snatch a medium sized firm throw pillow from the matching set and come back, opening the top of the cage and motioning you to sit up. When you do she slips the pillow in vertically before standing up and closing the door. This time when you lean back, your head is supported, making lying down a little easier. On habit you turn and curl up on your side, the space wide enough to do so. You sigh deeply, quite cozy in the metal cage,  
“You really are a cute pet.” Blake says, seemingly happy from making your pen more enjoyable for you.

You nod and hum a lazy affirmative. On some level, you realize that you should be worried about enjoying being locked in a dog cage, but the cloud soft floor makes a good argument for pushing those worries down.

All of a sudden the cage shakes and you yelp in surprise. Blake is holding the wood portion at the top and is focusing on something by her feet. She makes a soft grunt in effort and her tail whips one way as her muscles flex. The cage shakes once more before the rattling is quieted to a low sound and it Blake is able to take a step, pushing the cart with the casters, only being hindered by the carpet, but even that doesn’t stop her from going at a reasonable pace, turning your ride in a circle as she experiments with it. You quickly get used to the movement, the cage rattling gently now that the fit faunus has built momentum.

The ride ends just before the closet doors. Blake nods to herself, obviously scheming for later. She undoes the side door and lets you crawl out, leaving the pillow there for future visits. “That was fun, don’t you think?” She laughs while you put the metal box away.

“A little warning would be nice.” There’s no heat to your comment.    

The next wall over to the left isn’t as impressive, but it does have two items placed up against that are of interest. One is a wooden chest that is six foot long and two feet deep. When you pop it open to reveal its contents, Blake is obviously surprised, not needing to voice that she thought there’d be more impulse buys. Most of the box is occupied by several sets of sheets, blankets, some towels and face towels. When she looks at you, your reaction is to huff, “I wanted spares to be close at hand.”

She quietly laughs at your justification, “That’s fine, I plan to make sure you have to do lots of laundry.” A full body blush encompasses you. To save face you move on to the other items in the chest, it acts as a distraction from the shock of heat in your lower belly that made you subtly rub your thighs together.

Moving on, you show the few weird pillows you got with some of your orders thanks to whatever big bright neon sale ad caught your attention. Blake seems to know what they are, but doesn’t bother telling, much to your annoyance. Then last, embarrassingly enough, were a few issues of the porn magazine that Blake introduced you to, and the large jug of lube you had bought that say. “Is this open?” Blake asks.

“…Maybe.” Before she can grill you further you slam the lid down and tug her up by the wrist taking her over to one of your favorite purchases.  
It was a black with red, adjustable and sturdy spank bench. Blake rounds it a few times, unbuckles and tightens some of the straps meant to keep their charge in place. When she turns to you that sexy, yet unsettling grin is back, and your throat goes dry when you realize what she probably is thinking about.

“Weeiiisss~” how can she make your name sound so _ominous?_

You swallow and meekly say, “Yes…?” She merely pats the red cushions, eyes glinting with mischief. Putting on a brave face you don’t back down and instead move forward. You place your knees on the corresponding cushions, and stretch your body on the longest one, keeping you propped up as your backside is made vulnerable. Finally, you place your elbows and arms down, readjusting to get more comfortable.

“It’s adjustable, you said?” You nod. “I wonder _how_ adjustable it all is. Mind letting me test?” You squint; there was no point in getting up here then if she can just move it around. You go to straighten up when a strong hand holds your shoulders down. “Weren’t you listening? I said ‘it all is.’ I was referring to the bench in its current state, with you on it.”

Clever.

You sigh and lay back down properly. When something cold wraps around your ankle you jump and look back. Blake was fastening the buckle of the strap around the joint. “Blake?”

“We don’t want you falling, now do we?” You glare for a moment, but…you are curious. Looking straight, you sigh and offer your other ankle by lifting it up. She straps that down, then moves on to your hips, your wrists and your upper arms.

Satisfied with her work, Blake goes back behind you, “graciously” letting you know her position by dragging her hand down your body until she reaches your garter straps, which she promptly snaps. Your jump is suppressed by the restraints, but not your high pitched squeak. The faunus’ dark chuckle makes you blush and groan. Her hands touch the exposed skin of your legs before going down to your soft stockings, a playful finger plucks at the hem before disappearing. You hear a clack of a dial and a lever being pulled from the underside of the knee cushions, and your legs are spread out further. Turns out, you and the bench are pretty flexible.

You hear a muffled choke, seeing Blake’s cool demeanor blemished by the red on her face. You wiggle your ass a little more to tease and she has to take a deep breath. Your skirt was already pulled up when you bent over, but like this…well. There’s no doubt Blake’s getting a nice view.

Her hands return again, resting on your upper thighs. It’s slight but you can feel the slight shake in them, you look back and raise your hips, “With the collar on, I’m your property.” You gently remind her. The shake disappears, and her hands rise to the swell of your tight ass, albeit slowly. The room is a little colder as the skirt is pulled up by Blake’s fingers.

It takes all your might to not react when Blake makes the funniest, most undignified choking sound. You planned ahead for this, maybe not being bent over the bench, but your behind being exposed. Your underwear is an expensive lace set. The garterbelt is lacey and sheer, the black coloring sets a nice contrast with your pale skin, the straps going down the middle of each cheek. But that’s only the warm up to your underwear. The waistband is wide, two inches or so, and has vey intricate lace for enticing the viewer, the very back having a cute gold bow the same color of Blake’s eyes. The rest of it is sparse, a fair amount of fabric luckily covers your mons and slit just fine, but due to it being a t-back styled thong, it’s putting your perfect, tight ass on display. And to an ass girl like Blake it works perfectly like a siren call. You smirk for a plan well executed. It lasts for all of two seconds before a smack rings through the air and you jump in surprise.

Unfortunately, every plan has its drawbacks.

The cushions are re-adjusted so it’s back into its starting position. Blake comes to the side—her face only having the barest evidence of a blush—she messes with one of the two levers on each side of the main body of the sawhorse. With a click and a stuttered jerking motion akin to a smoother car jack your head rises. You see Blake grab something else out of the corner of your eye and the back cushions are lowered and spread. She does the same with the arms, only something releases and the cushions go slack, the furthest part detaching and making your arms hang straight down perfectly perpendicular to the body of the bench. “That’s interesting. Did you know it could do that?” She asks while turns your arms so the underside is exposed, obviously getting ideas judging by her brow raise.

“No, not really.” She turns your arms back onto their sides like before and lifts the top of the arm cushion up attempting to put it back into socket. “There was an instruction manual, but it was shipped in with most of the parts put together. It was meant to be easy to assemble. I thought it was just for building it from scratch.”

“Obviously we’ll need to thumb through it more.” She grunts while successfully sliding and clicking the knob back.

“It’s somewhere in the closet.” You muse, “If not then it’s in a miscellaneous drawer on the shelves.” Blake nods as she connects the other arm. She undoes the lifting and your body is back to being level, but just for a short time before your head is being dipped, lifting your cheeks into the air and a prime spanking position. The sawhorse has a lot of freedom of movement considering your body is bent at almost a 45˚ angle.    

Blake is satisfied with her findings and corrects the sawhorse and helps you off it, “That’s certainly fun.”

You smirk and go to straighten out your back garter straps in the most obnoxious way possible, bending over a bit and tossing your hair a little as you glance back. It’s hard to miss Blake’s mouth twitch before she schools her expression back to normal.

Now you are at the biggest and most expensive piece of furniture in the room. You hop on the bed and crawl to the headboard, swinging your hips on the way. When you make a big deal of getting comfy you beckon Blake to join.

She declines, “If I get on there while you’re on there at the same time, we won’t be leaving it until morning.”

You don’t doubt her claim.

You start to explain the features of the enormous king sized bed. You go over how the fence posts have a simplified windlass crank to mete out the length of the chain restraints, and tighten them back up once the sub is in the desired position. You hook one of the chains to your wristcuffs in demonstration. You also make sure include how one can throw the chain up and through the diamond pattern made of reinforced wood making up the canopy. It’s made to be quite sturdy. You unhook yourself and go to the side of the bed where there are barely perceptible splits in the wood on the frame, with a press and a flip, an eye hook is revealed. More hooks goes in a straight line throughout the frame, allowing the dom to place their sub in virtually any position. And just below the hook line was a drawer filled with tiny bottles of lube, condoms, dental dams and more. All the necessities are only a small distance away. Wasted time is abhorrent during the few days you wish to be free.  

“You’ve thought of everything…” Blake rounds the bed for thorough exploration. She practiced flipping out the hooks and made herself familiar with the chains and crank, completely curious and impressed, though it was clear that she thought you were a tad bit impulsive.

Behind the bed was a fabric bulletin board fashioned with different hooks that already were holding a few tools. Blake reaches out and grabs a riding crop; she messes with, tapping the keeper of the whip into her hands. You feign disinterest or at least, not as much as you’re truly feeling. The faunus hangs the crop back in its proper place above the headboard.

Looking on either side of the bed were more of the warm orange sconce lights, she laughed under her breath, “What? Do you have a problem with sconces?” you say with an offended tone.

“I do not have any problem with them.” She silently laughed.

“Then why are you laughing? They go well with the palette of the room.” You huff and hop off the bed. You are stopped from walking any further by two warm hands on your exposed shoulders. They move you so that you are facing the middle of the room.

“I want you to think real hard, Weiss. Look at the lights from this perspective.” Huffing you take a look around but still find that they compliment the plum.

“Would you like them dimmed or something?” You are quickly becoming more annoyed the more you don’t understand.

“Here’s a hint, they are at the same level and evenly spaced.”

Ugh. You take a look again but this time trying to shove your inner interior decorator out of the way to look at it objectively. Blake waits patiently; she steps up and rests her chin on your head. With how angry you are she just might burn herself.

Honestly, what is wrong in having nice lighting in a playroom…

…Your playroom…is a sex _dungeon_ …

A dungeon complete with its own torches.

“I cannot believe—!” Humiliation. The Humiliation causes you to bury your face in your hands. Humiliation that makes your girlfriend horribly stifle her giggles, despite the fact you can feel her chest moving up and down. “I swear that wasn’t the intention.” You groan.

“I know, I know.” Blake lightly hugs you by pulling you further into her embrace and throwing her arms across your shoulders. She lightly rocks you back and forth, “Let’s just chalk this up to a Freudian slip.” You huff but lean into her anyways, not fighting the motion. “It does set a mood, doesn’t it?” You grumble more. “Did you know you are absolutely _darling_ when you are embarrassed?”

“You’re having too much fun with this.” You can almost _hear_ the smirk.  
Blake lowers her chin from your head and kisses up your shoulders as she slowly loosens her hold; you shake and let her have more room to work with by tilting your head. Then, she chuckles into your ear, “Isn’t that the point?” She sucks your lobe, making you cry out in surprise. The faunus lets you go, walking to the unexplored part of the room.

It takes a second but you come out of your daze and push down your blush. The Belladonna charm is overwhelmingly effective.

You stomp over to her and the pile of pillows, “Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable.”

“You know you like it.” The way Blake says it makes you frown because it is just oozing smugness.

You glare, “…Doesn’t change the fact that you are insufferable.”

“I am what I am. Now, what are these?” She takes one of the pillow like things, noting the fur lining and how soft it is, the outside bordered by corduroy. This particular one is circular and colored beige and white, as she holds it in her arms, three half circles pop out.  With a grunt she lowers it to the floor, and feels more of the lining, marveling at the softness. And then Blake backs up to take in the whole design of the bed. The silence reignites the blush on your face.

It’s designed in a paw shape.

When she looks up at you her smug smile defies physics and gets smugger. You are looking rather guilty, looking off to the side. You take a breath and turn to the faunus, it takes a lot willpower to not smack that grin off her face, “It’s…Well,” you start. “As you can imagine I went to a pet shop for some items, particularly the cage. But I also needed…a place to rest. So, where do pets go should they not be allowed on furniture?”

Blake steps closer and her height allows her to tower over you, and the mischievous glint eyes feel like spotlights. You’d be irritated if it wasn’t so sexy to you. The tall faunus’ tail flicks back in forth, “So, where do they go?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” false bravado is just that: False. Your nervousness and arousal might as well have been behind a clean window.  
Eyebrow lifts shouldn’t be that sexy, “Finish your own question, Weiss. Go on, inform me.”

The blush won’t go away and your heated frown is quickly cooling, “They…they go to their beds.” You swallow. “T-to their pet beds.” Somehow you manage to say all that while looking into amused golden eyes.

Blake nods, approving of… _something_. Maybe it’s your face, or your answer, or maybe even the crumbling of your obstinence, they are all valid answers.  
Her tail is still moving side to side, a sure sign that she’s going to as—“Well, you should know what to do by now.”

Sometimes it’s so rough to be right.

Worse yet, you know what she wants, and you have no problems fulfilling her request.

You crouch down and crawl to the middle of the bed and sit facing her. The pet beds are so comfortable, fluffy, yet firm, no springs, just padding and cotton to hold your body. The pure white lining is also soft, and it’s hard for you to not run your hands through the fur. You decide to make yourself more comfortable and shimmy up to lean on the three upright toes of the paw-shaped bed.

“Oh my god…” You look up at Blake who is snickering to herself before turning away to hide it—poorly.

Today seems to want your face permanently red, “What!” you yell, completely offended.

“No it’s just,” She took another look at you, and wiped a tear away, “It’s just…you’re so _tiny._ ”

You sit back up and observe the empty space around you and realize that there’s just so much space. The look on your face must have been the last straw because Blake breaks out into a raucous laughter that seemed to echo off the walls.

Next time, you’re going to try every piece of pet furniture you can before this happens again.

After a few solid minutes of Blake nearly dying from an inability to breathe from laughing so hard, she manages to stop, not without little giggles, but when she sees your face buried in your hands she ‘awws’ and pulls them away to see your pouting face.

“Intolerable.” She kisses your forehead in apology.

“Weiss, how is it that this bed is so _big_?” Both of you look down and see that even with Blake on there, the beige corduroy of the edge seems a bit far. She looks back at you and after a moment, coaxes you down so you both stretch out. It is quite apparent that Blake’s height didn’t allow even her feet drop off the edge except for the very edge of them. But even so, that didn’t do a thing about the white expanse to your sides.

“Um, as you can guess, the cage and the beds came from a pet store. The cage was quickly picked by myself but when it came to the beds, it needed to be big, so I may have asked the employees to find me a bed that could,” you groaned, and glared into Blake’s eyes, who stares back with utter delight in her golden orbs, like someone is about to hand her a gift. “Something along the lines of… ‘Bring me a bed that could fit two Saint Bernards and a Great Dane.’?”

Blake stared, “Holy shit, Weiss. _Overzealous_ doesn’t even cut it.” Before you resume wallowing in pride shattering embarrassment, Blake grabs your hands, “Oh no you don’t.” She pulls you over so you are on top. The faunus’ firm grip keeps you from doing much besides pouting and glaring. “Weiss, relax. You’re fine; I like this side of you.” Her thumbs rub circles on the back of your hands. “You’re honest, you allow yourself to feel embarrassed, you allow yourself to not try and be perfect and admit mistakes. You are allowed to be yourself. You’re just buying what you like, I mean, I’m no better when the book store has a sale.” You giggle a little, knowing the way the faunus’ eyes grow wide at any book or thrift store, with books lining the walls along with posters with the word “deal” and “sale”. Now that she’s pointed it out, it’s easy to see how she finds your enthusiasm enjoyable. You might even make the same face when you talk about the items you picked.

“Thank you, Blake.” How is it that she can calm you so easily?

“Is there anything else?” Over to the side are two more pet beds, but of a different style so you nod and get up to show them to her, your steps are lighter than before and you found yourself humming a bit. The second and third beds are twins the same style. These aren’t as… _unique_ as the paw bed, they are simplistic—not including the materials they’re made out of. The beds are rounded rectangles about six inches deep, the inside lining is every bit as soft as the paw bed, and one big firm mat lays under it so the pet doesn’t feel the hard floor. One had black lining and the felt outside was colored red. The other was its complete opposite; it was a white and light sky blue bed, with the white outside and the blue inside. Before she can say anything you sit yourself down in the blue and white one, keenly aware of the fact that this could be a double-sized mattress.

Well, at least the store got you what you asked. You probably _could_ fit two or three large dogs in here.

Blake smiles and bends down to touch the soft cloth, “So, angel and devil?”

“It’s what they had that seemed big enough.”

“No kidding,” Meanwhile you turn longways and lie in the bed. The small walls are nice and give you a strange sense of security. Fluff supported, the floor is nonexistent and only softness remains, so much so you wonder if this is like tempurpedic for dogs. “So why two?”

“One for the bedroom and one in here. The paw is going somewhere in the living room.”

“Let me guess, the devil one is staying here?” Blake says in a teasing tone.

“Yes. Besides, imagine waking up and seeing me, nice and snug in my bed, innocent and pure.” To end the statement you give her the sweetest, coy smile you can muster. Previous results made you think she’d laugh, but her eyebrow rises, she’s actually thinking about it.

“Not a bad image.” She mutters before standing up, eyes fixed on you and a sly little smile.

Stupid, smug, sexy girlfriend.

Unfortunately, you leave the gentle hold of the bed and stand up and brush yourself off. You clear your throat, “And that concludes the tour.”  
Blake smiled “Always a pleasure to _explore_ Schnee company assets.”

“You were going to say ‘ride’ weren’t you.”

“Perhaps, but then it wouldn’t have made as much sense.” You roll your eyes. When you’re about to walk past her she grabs you by the waist.

“Nope,” Blake lifts you easily, a trait you find as hot as it is annoying. You cross your arms in annoyance as she slowly turns and plops you onto the paw bed, “Stay.”

The order was so surprising, so out of the blue that you don’t move. Blake crouches down and slips her arms under the paw pet bed. The faunus’ biceps flex in a way that makes you enjoy the view, she always says she gets pulled into working out with her two friends. You’ve never met them, but they are a godsend in your eyes.

Your googly eyes snap back into reality when the cottony soft bed lifts and makes you squeak in surprise, finding purchase in the fluff you press backwards into the bed and look at Blake’s focused face, “ _What_ are you doing!?” you screech.

“You’ll see.”

“Blake!”

“Relax,”

“Relax!? Blake, you dunce! You’ll fall, or drop something! Particularly me!” You duck as she directs you through the door, it takes a moment but she manages to squeeze through with little trouble beyond pulling the door open more with her foot.

“Weiss, please. This bed is only like, ten pounds, and you’re what? A buck and a nickel?”

“What does that even mean?” You’re glaring at her now, one hand firmly on her shoulder for support and one clamped to the bed as she carries you down the hallway.

“It means that I can lift you, and this bed, without a problem.” The only reaction giver her is an eye-roll deciding to give up on the point and just see where this trip ends.

The end of the hallway gives into the open space of the living room and kitchen separated by a breakfast bar and the nine-seat wrapped around the far corner that creates a pseudo hallway. It’s at this moment when you realize what Blake’s doing, you look at her and she’s smiling at you, albeit with a little smirk added in. Your body relaxes instantly and you let the faunus carry you to the corner of the L-shaped couch. The bed is lowered onto the carpet with a small grunt and then she pushes it into place, making sure the three toes line up perfectly, and she even comes around to adjust the pillows so it pushes against the corner completely for even more support and comfort.

“Is this good?” She asks.

You lean back and prop your head against the pillows, making yourself cozy in the bed’s embrace, you don’t even stop yourself from spreading your limbs out. “Perfect.” Blake smiles to herself while you roll back and forth a little.

“Cutie.” She leans over you and kisses your forehead, “Now come on, we have to talk.”

That gets your attention, “Talk?”

“Yes, to do this we have to know where the lines are drawn and what the other likes.” The faunus takes your hand and pulls you up, then she directs you to sit at the far end of the dining room table while she rummages in her bag for something.

Blake pulls out a black, leather-backed personal notebook. There was gold endless looping leaf border on the inside of the edges. The book was secured with a strap and a button that you know was meant to fool anyone who might try to sneak a peek in it. You’ve tried out of curiosity, but apparently it has a lock mechanism that requires a “magic touch” as Blake likes to say. After grabbing a pen she sits at the other end of the table and fiddles with the button too quickly for you to discern exactly what she’s doing. The book snaps and the strap is loose, she then leafs through it for a blank page. From what you are able to see, the printed lines were close together, and Blake’s smooth, small cursive fit well in the allotted space, even when—as a precaution to nosy readers—you can make out that the letters were tall and squished together to make it illegible to all but the owner of the book.

She finds a fresh page and titles it with a flourish, the moment she dots the last “I” there’s this heavy air of seriousness that settles about the table almost as fast as when your father glares at his competition for sullying his office with their very presence. She looks up, any trace of her usual sly, smug, and neutrality gone, left only with a face that makes her eyes burn like metal during the smelting process. It makes you sit straighter than even your normal perfect posture, “Weiss, I want you to understand that this process is going to be personal, and possibly uncomfortable, but we really can’t continue until rules have been ironed out. Alright?”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Do you mind if I ask something of you?” your brow raises but you motion to her to continue, “It might be a bit late in doing this, but I think it’d be easier if we pledge from here on out total honesty. It goes both ways of course.”

The notion makes you swallow reflexively, it wasn’t like you hadn’t expected this, and so far your relationship has been pretty honest, some deflections aside, and Blake knows more about you than your own family does. “I promise. Total honesty.”

She nods, “I promise to be completely honest as well.” The air feels slightly lighter than before, but your heart still races, for good reason.

You don’t break your word.

A pause begins, only filled by the momentary scrawl of pen on paper. “Okay, I guess the best place to start would be for you to tell me about your previous sexual encounters.”

“I’m clean if that’s what you mean.” The thought of the paper from a private clinic folded neatly into the abandoned envelope burns in the back of your head.

“Noted, but not what I meant.” She scribbles something down, “What were they like?”

Oh, no. The thoughts make you go green in the face, you now fully understand what Blake was referring to when she said “personal”.

“Well…” You try to put your thoughts together, there’s no easy way to say something so…humiliating.

Apparently your silence leads Blake down a different slope, “Weiss…? Were you—”

“No! No, nothing that serious.” You stop her in her tracks, that sad look making your stomach do flips. “It’s sort of embarrassing.”

The faunus blinks, and relaxes into the chair, noticeably sighing in relief, “It’d be odd if it was perfect.” Her sly grin resurfaces, obviously putting you and herself at ease, “What, did they fumble about and put it in the wrong hole?”

Your eyes roll and Blake snickers.

Damn the need to banter. Before you can stop yourself, you parry with, “If they even tried to put it in, in the first place.” The faunus chokes on her own spit and coughs. Realizing just how loud you said it sets your face ablaze.

“What!?” She rasps when she can breathe.

This is horrendous; any mood has deflated faster than a balloon popped by a pin. The absolute humiliation you feel causes your head to be buried in your arms.

When Blake pulls herself back together she clears her throat and starts again,

“So…details?”

The silence is long but you finally lift your head and start rubbing your temples with one hand and the other tapping on the mahogany table, “Contrary to what you are probably thinking, it isn’t as bad as it seems. As you can imagine my father ‘encouraged’ me to meet other children of big corporate families to create ties and maybe net an arranged marriage/engagement. All of it to make sure the Schnee business goes on, ‘to make sure there’s an heir’ he said, despite the fact that I am an heiress to it, but that’s another can of worms. This started as early as 13. There were plenty of suitors, but the suitors were either scum, annoying, self-absorbed, exploitive, had an _terrible_ personality and outlook, or some combination of said traits. But there was one who was okay. He may have cared about his hair a bit much but he was in the same situation and we didn’t find each other intolerable so we ‘dated’.

“Of course that means we stuck together so we wouldn’t be subject to rounds of annoying match ups. It lasted…eight months? When we got to six months, our parents took this as a sign that we were perfect for each other and would marry. It seemed that anytime we entered a room together they would loudly converse about marriage and children. We were 16 at the time, nowhere near ready, but it did bring up a good question, to have children you need to have sex and what was that like?” You pause to see Blake enraptured by your story, the quiver of her lip ready to break into giggles when the “punchline” came. But she was thankfully silent for now.

“We went up to my room, and thought that we should at least try. It also became clear at that point that we haven’t done more than kiss and hold hands and this was a huge jump. He handled the situation well, made the mood light before we started, nervous as hell.” You sigh. “We kissed, clothes were taken off, rather hard and clumsy groping, and we finally came to the big moment. Only…it wasn’t really big, or at least maybe it would’ve been but we looked at each other, he was half hard I was—if you’ll excuse my bluntness—not even wet, and we stopped. After some talking we came to the conclusion that we were very, very, gay.” Glaring is the only thing stopping Blake from guffawing, but her shoulders shook and the strain to hold it in was clear.

“We talked for hours, came out of the room, our hair disheveled because we were lying down as we discussed, and our parents thought the worst. There were many claps on the back for him and approving nods from my father, his mother even tried to give me advice while slyly trying to pry information on whether or not we were protected and not so subtly referenced how cute children were. It was terrible. And as much as they wanted us to ‘further our relationship’ they also kept a rather close eye on us, so even if weren’t gay, trying to do anything would have been reported at once.

“We stayed together for a little longer to keep the suitors at bay as we became more comfortable with ourselves. That was fairly easy but our parents made things…difficult. We ‘broke up’ on good terms, and he came out to his parents a few months later. I waited longer but came out as well. We still talk, and as angry as my father was, he still had a contact to that company through me so he got over it fairly quickly. There were still suitors though, only…of the female variety.” You sigh, what a debacle that whole thing was. “You can laugh now.”

Blake giggled and snickered for a minute but respectfully kept it to a minimum. It brought great comfort that she didn’t write anything down, “Okay, beyond that?”At your silence her amused look became confused, “Nothing else?”

“Some grinding and a heavy make-out at a club is as close as it gets, other than me handling it myself.”

“…So you’re still a virgin?”

“—Inexperienced!”

“You’re inexperienced. Right. Well, at least I know you are at least using some of those toys either way.” At your frown, she taps her nose.

“I clean them though!” You protest.

“Exactly. The others smell like new rubber or cardboard, but the ones that smell like your soap are obvious amongst all that.” You frown more, knowing you’ve lost that one. Blake writes something down, pauses for a moment while her brow wrinkles in thought and goes on to underline it and then write several things under that. “Okay. So basically, I’m working with a blank slate.”

“…That’s one way to put it, yes.”

“What are your limits? Hard and soft.” She sees your confused squint and clarifies, “They are like they sound, what are things you absolutely forbid and what are things you are apprehensive about, but may be willing to try if we talked it over beforehand?”

This is particularly difficult because you really don’t know much, but you are able give comment on the bits you do, “None of that…waste whatever, just no.”

“Waste?” Blake whispers to herself before cringing. “Did you run into ‘2 girls 1 cup’?”

“Blake I will puke on you.”

“I thought you weren’t into that?” You frown but she puts her hands up in surrender. “No Watersports, no emetophilia, no scat. I wholly agree. Ew.” Another note in her book. “Anything else?”

“Nothing public, for obvious reasons. I don’t really know what else to say.”

Blake taps the pen against her chin. “How about I list some things and you’ll answer whether it sounds good or not?”

“That could work, but honestly I don’t know how I’ll feel about most things.”

“I’ll list the more extreme things and then we’ll work our way down, sound alright?” Upon your agreement Blake turns to a new page and she draws a long line down the middle and you can tell from her pen strokes she made an ‘X’ and a checkmark at the top of each divide.

“Alright. How do you feel about branding, electroplay, piercing, and cutting/scarring? In fact, how much blood _are_ you okay with?”

 _“People do what!?_ ” Blake isn’t surprised at your reaction and just waits with her pen at the ready. “Absolutely not.”

“I figured but I wanted to ask anyhow. Now, about the blood?”

“Hmm, a little is fine… Do you intend to make me bleed?” An elephant in the room materializes like lightning as a dreaded fact raises its ugly head. It’s hard to keep your twitching fingers from reflexively reaching up to your face. Her golden eyes are fixated on the page to keep her gaze from shifting to the left side of your face.

“Not unless you want to.” She answers slowly; her annunciation becomes more defined like every time she’s uncomfortable. Clear and paced so the source of her unease can pick it up. You get the feeling that with the honesty you’ve promised this might come up. “Weiss?”

“Yes?”

“…Doms have limits as well. I’d…I’d never, not in a million years would hurt you in such a way, hell, I don’t even feel comfortable hitting you in the face even for a playful slap.”

“…I didn’t know doms have limits.” You pause and the twitching in your fingers cease. “But I know you won’t Blake. Thank you, though.” You sigh, “…Do you want to know what happened?”

Blake looks at you for a moment, conflict present in her eyes. Finally she answers, “Yes. But not right now. We can save that for a different conversation for whenever you’re ready. Not when you feel…obligated. By topic or otherwise.” You exhale a breath of relief. The first page is turned back and she notes something, and by the scratching of the pen and the white contrasting on her tawny hands tells you the ink must be seeping in deep. Her face remains schooled but her shoulders are tense. “Let’s move on.”

You nod, “Right, what’s next?”

“Abrasion, breast bondage, human furniture?”

“In order: No, I’m not sure that’d even work, and really?”

“I shit you not.”

“Well, that’s a no.”

“Chastity? Fisting? Fireplay? Waxplay?”

Ow, ouch, and no, “Um, Chastity is, well not preferred but I wouldn’t mind that. Waxplay is…we can try that down the road I guess. Way down the road. The rest is an obvious no”

Blake nods and writes the first two things under the checkmark, then the latter ones on the other side. She taps the pen on her lips, “Would you mind if I used clothespins on you?”

“What for?”

“Well, if we find that you enjoy pain, it’ll be a nice treat, if not, then as a punishment.”

“Is that something you’d like to do?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you say no then it’s out of the question. I don’t want you to feel that you have to please me, I can get by on whatever parameters you set. I mean, I can easily get _creative_.” The way she says that makes you hot all over.

“W-we can keep it on the back burner I guess, I mean, it does depend on how I respond to pain right?”

The faunus’ eyes shine, “Okay,” She writes something and circles it. “Should we wait on genitorture too?”

Your eyes bulge, “Geni-what?”

“Genital torture. Of course, it wouldn’t be too bad, maybe some spanking there, nothing hardcore. Don’t want to ruin any of my property.” Blake has always been far too good at getting your goat. With every flirtatious thing she says in that husky voice of hers, plus the x-ray worthy gaze at your willing body wanting her touch; it’s hard to think of anything but the images she plants in your head.

Something does catch your attention though, “Is there any reason you suggested this after mentioning clothing pins?”

“Nope.” You squint suspiciously. Damn her poker face. Even when she’s smiling mischievously it’s hard to tell if she’s messing with you, is telling the truth but knows it’s hard to accept, or is lying in the first place.

“I see.” You drawl, dropping the subject. For now.

“Hmm, let’s see, I’m going to go on a limb here and assume knife play and gun play is forbidden?”

“Correct.” You clip, cringing.

“Mummification? Needle play? Nose torture?”

“God no. Do you really have to ask?”

“I like to be thorough. Besides, you said you don’t know much, be glad that the titles are straight forward. I could have suggested Nyotaimori.”

You stare. It sounds familiar though. “What is that?” You cautiously ask.

“Human sushi platter.”

All the muscles in your face contort into the most unflattering face, made from realization and disgust. “Oh, my god. No wonder it sounded familiar.” Blake tilts her head at your realization. “My dad has been to those places so many times, he told me that it was private sake bar only he had access to. Do you have to be naked?” She nods and you are near gagging. “No. God no.”

Blake smirks, “I suppose I wouldn’t want to think of my dad while fucking either.”

_“BLAKE!”_

Your girlfriend’s forehead hits the table and her laughter is barely muted. This day has a disturbing theme of embarrassment making your face red and Blake ruthlessly laughing at you.

She gets up trying to snuff out the last of the giggles, she jots down what you assume to be the subject under the ‘X’ and continues, with the occasional giggle, “Okay, okay. I think that covers most of the more extreme subjects. Let’s move to the more conventional.”

“Alright…” you still glare at her.

“Bondage?”

“Isn’t that what this is all about?”

“This is in the more literal sense. Handcuffs, ropes, tape, staying in position, etc.”

“Oh, okay, yeah that’s fine. More than fine actually…” you mutter the last part.

“For specific’s sake, I would prefer if you wore lined handcuffs all the time instead of handcuffs, so they doesn’t bite into your skin. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, I had the same idea; my skin is rather easily bruised. Plus I like how these look on me.” You rub the wrist cuffs you’re currently wearing. Blake nods and flips to the back of the limits chart page and writes two lines worth of info, pauses, then makes two dashes and hastily jots something after them.

“For further detail, with ropes, is shibari okay?”

“Shibari?”

“Japanese art of rope-tying.”

You think you’ve heard of this, “I…wouldn’t mind trying it, but I’d like more detail later.” She nods and smiles as she names and circles the word under the checkmark column of the limits chart.

“If you find you aren’t a fan there are always ribbons and cloth. They are soft and strong and specially made for restraints.” She pauses. “I think you’d look good in lavender.”

Blake has got to stop planting these images in your head.

“I-if you say so.”

“Of course training will include posture training and endurance, so that’ll be covered.” Oh, god. “Now, how about spanking? Same deal as the clothespins, it’s obvious you like it, but is it punishment or fun?”

“Spanking’s fine. I’ve…always considered it as part of pet play in the first place, for correction or otherwise. I guess we’ll have to see about which it is.” You hold off on telling her how a lot of your fantasies turn out. Her smirk tells you she might already have an idea.

“You don’t seem to have a problem with suspension.” The lattice work above the bed was per your instructions. “How do you feel about breath play?”

“Hmm, we can try that I guess. Put it under soft limits.” She nods and does so.  
Blake frowns for a second, “There’s another thing I just thought of but it’s…sticky.” You raise a brow. “Ravishment. Usually it pertains to…something else, but I’d like to change the context.”

“What’s the ‘something else’?” She doesn’t answer, and the look on her face means that she _won’t_ ever tell you. “Okay, then what’s the context?”

“Would you like to be available all the time? As in: I have permission to fuck you all the time, whenever I want? During the session, I mean.”

That’s interesting. You roll around the idea in your head, “I’m okay with that. Technically, I’m yours.”

“What if you’re sleeping?”

All that does is make you blush, “Waking up that way wouldn’t be so bad…”

This time Blake’s the one who blushes, “I…didn’t think you’d go for that. You’re far kinkier then I thought. Or maybe just hornier.” She mutters the last part and you look away, red as a firetruck. You’ve been thinking about her taking you anytime she wishes anyhow, just saying it out loud is making you press your thighs together.

“I …” she clears her throat trying to not think of the possibilities you offered, “I would want you to give blowjobs.”

Your eyes cross, “Blake, um—well. Can I ask why?”

“I’m talking about having you suck strap-ons and dildos. I think you’d look cute sucking dick.” She smirks.

If anymore blood goes to your head your brain might drown. This is what you signed up for though, “I’ve never given one before, and I don’t even think I have any control over my gag reflex.”

Blake smiles far too brightly for your tastes, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll cover that in your training.” Somehow, your throat felt dry and sore. “Sensory deprivation? However, if you’re claustrophobic, then it might have a chance of scaring you.”

“What exactly would that entail?”

“Blindfolds, earplugs, tape over your mouth, rendering you numb, nose plugs. This would also be a good time to tell me if you dislike ball gags, if so, there are bit gags that might be more acceptable.”

“I don’t have a problem with any of that…but…” You fidget, trying to think of how to put this, “Should you do any of that, you have to make sure that I know you’re in the room. Or at least, don’t go quiet for too long. Surprising me with a whip from an unknown angle is one thing, but I don’t want to be left alone like for long or with no one in the room. Especially with how you don’t seem to make noise when you walk. Never mind the fact that the playroom is carpeted.”

Blake nods and writes something under the soft limits column, then a longer note on the back of that page. “Neglect play is not something you like?”

“Not when I’m rendered helpless in any way, shape, or form. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d particularly care.”

With a page and a half filled with whatever agenda she had in mind she goes back to the limits page, “Is there anything else you can think of for limits?”

“Uh, food play’s fine, just be clean about it. Otherwise, that’s it.”

“Okay, then. We’ve completed the limits part.” She writes a flourished title on the next blank page, “Now let’s talk scene specifics.”

“How specific?”

“Very. I already have an idea of how deep you want to go but you need to answer some questions and then we can go from there. On all fours or standing?”

“All fours.”

“Speaking or none?”

“I’d like to talk, but if there are some days you want as silence I don’t have a problem.”

Blake writes down the new information, “I’ll keep that in mind, but throughout training I’ll need feedback so you’ll be talking. Do you mind eating out of bowls?”

“T-that’s fine.” The thought of eating out of bowls shouldn’t be making you excited. Maybe Blake’s right; you might be kinkier than either of you thought.

“Okay, they’ll be elevated to make it a little easier to swallow.” The faunus writes another line of information. “Toilet or sandbox?”

 _“Excuse me?_ ”

“Toilet, it is.” She snickers.

You open your mouth to say something, but you figure it’s just best left alone.

“Okay Weiss, would you be dressed or nude?” Blake smirks again. For once, you’ve been expecting this. So when you mirror her expression, her tail flicks, surprised at your reaction.

“I was thinking of something in-between actually.” You stand up and slowly go around the table. Your light blue shirt is lifted by crossed hands and you smoothly undo the zipper of your skirt, reaching the ground barely a second after the shirt does. “What do you think?”

There’s the distinctive sound of the plastic of the pen cracking.  

Blake has lost the ability to keep her jaw closed, and her eyes keep looking up and down your form. The ultimate giveaway is how her tail slowly raises straight up in the air. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment. Blake already had an idea of what your saucy underwear looked like, but seeing it head on and was a completly different matter, not to mention seeing it complete with your garterbelt and lacy bra. With all the teasing she’s been doing it feels good to return the favor with a bang. The faunus is practically vibrating in her seat, and you enjoy the sight before turning around to return to your seat.

Mercifully, you say nothing about the muffled groan.

When you sit down Blake has the pen between her teeth and is currently glaring, “Aren’t you going to put those back on?” She nods over to your discarded clothes, her eyes not leaving yours (or maybe your body) for even a second.

“No, I’m quite comfortable like this, thank you.” A wonderful little idea pops into your head, you must be smirking because Blake’s eyes narrow. “Unless…you want me in that little maid outfit?”

She almost bites through the pen.

“No, if you’re comfortable, who am I to make you otherwise?” She says through gritted teeth disguised as a smile after she removes the pen. You watch as she scribbles a fast note then underlines it. “Let’s continue. No problem with leashes or cages, do you have any food allergies or any other allergies I should be aware of?”

“What for?”

“Treats.” She says with a grin.

You try to keep your face neutral, “No allergies.”

She makes an ‘X’ next to a word, “Do you want sexual activity to be restricted to your playroom?”

“Anywhere’s fine, but I’d prefer if a lot of the bigger, more grandiose things be carried out in there.”

“When you hold something, are you going to hold it with your mouth or hands?”

“Hmm, I think that depends.”

“Just for reference, what if I gave you a squeaky toy?”

You blush and look away, “…My mouth.”

Blake mumbles something; you think she said “cute.” She writes another few words. “Would you mind being groomed? Hair, nails, so on and so forth?”

“You know as well as I do that I like being pampered.”

Blake laughs and writes down two lines of plans, “That I do. Speaking of, you have no idea what aftercare is, right?”

“No?”

She jots something down and then considers how to describe it, “After an intense session, or any session including sex or punishment, that’s when the Dom takes care of the sub, not only through physical means such as checking over for injuries, but emotionally. Usually it’s done through cuddling, assurances, baths, eating a snack together, and so on and so forth. It’s important to unwind or the sub could experience subdrop.”

“Subdrop?”

“It’s a little hard to explain, but after an especially intense session that doesn’t end in aftercare can result in irritability, migraines, depression, even illness. It’s like when you stress so much you get sick, in a way. It’s a little hard to explain the why, but it _can_ affect the sub in adverse ways. Obviously we’d want to avoid that.”

It seems far-fetched, but with how grave Blake is talking about it, you have no doubt that it exists, and could turn into a serious problem. “Is that why you were asking about it in the playroom?

“Yes, it’s very important.” She leans back and counts off on her fingers, “First-aid kits for injuries, bottled water for dehydration—which is pretty common after having sex, and warm blankets, all those can be considered aftercare materials.” She frowns and furrows her brow, “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that most, if not all of what you learned was from online porn, right?”

“…Yes.”

She sighs and chuckles, “Porn is nothing but an exaggerated fantasy. I’ve only seen two videos that showed aftercare in any respect, and those had to be specially ordered and no clip exists on any porn site, I don’t think.”  
“Hmm. Noted. As for what’d I like for it, I don’t know. First-aid and cuddling sounds good, I guess we can figure it out from there.” You say, tapping your finger against your chin, going over this new, surprising information.

Blake nods in agreement and writes down your answers, then what looks to be a list. “It varies on each person what they’d like, so think about your needs for awhile then tell me if there’s anything you’d like to add.”

“How intense will our sessions get?” The word ‘intense’ sounds way too open-ended for you.

The faunus grimaces, “That’s…another thing we’d have to gauge, when we figure out how you endure pain, maybe that can give us a baseline, but we’ll take baby steps and carefully take it further, especially since you don’t have any experience.”

“Can you at least give me an example?”  

Blake pauses, “Tell me if you’d like to put this under any limits, ok?” you get a wary look but agree. She smirks a bit, “How would you respond to being manhandled?”

…What?

“Manh—what does that even mean!?”

Blake’s eyebrow both raise in interest, and then she gets a dark look in her eye, and the faunus’ smirk gets bigger. She folds her hands in front of her and leans forward. Blake’s voice drops an octave as she says, “Do you want me to show you?” You swear that her statement was one step above a growl. It intrigues you and makes you hot.

“Yes.”

Her grin is sharper than blades.

Blake’s hands slam on the tables as she forcefully gets up. Her stride is fast and she reaches faster than you can fully comprehend, not even allowing you to get a word out before your chair is grabbed and slid backwards on the hardwood, causing a violent scraping sound. The faunus reaches down and grabs you by the waist, but it was nothing like in the playroom, her nails dug in and you are removed from your seat with haste. She throws you over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes and walks forward, purposely jostling you with her shoulder and groping your thighs. The world blurs and you feel weightless before you crash onto the couch hard enough to make you bounce up and close your eyes. You feel the depressions in the cushions, and a grip around one wrist before you finally look up to see her hovering above you, focused and dark, like you were to be her dinner any second. Her hard, lusty glare shoots a lance of heat down your spine and you think of all the things she could do to you just to sate her desires.

Then.. the look softens and the vice grip around your wrist is gone.

The person looking at you now, this is _your_ Blake, the one you’ve always known. It’s a startling difference from the dominant personality a second ago, it throws you for a loop and you’re stunned. Golden eyes that once were as hard as diamonds go wide with worry, “Weiss? Weiss, are you alright? Sorry, did I cross a line? Weiss? Talk to me honey, you’re scaring me.”

The shaking in Blake’s voice swiftly sobers you up, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” The faunus relaxes almost instantly. “I was just, a little surprised is all. I never knew you could be so…rough.”

“I won’t do it again if you don’t like it…” She somehow combines smiling awkwardly and cringing, wondering if she had done something she shouldn’t have.

How in the world can this snarky, gentle dolt be so…domineering? You throw your arms around Blake’s neck and bring her in for a kiss to get rid of that awful expression, when you pull away, she’s a little confused, “Calm down, you dolt. You didn’t cross a line. I…actually kind of liked it. Quite a bit.” One of her eyebrows raise, “You looked so much like a Domme at that moment, and I sort of wanted you to do…well, everything to me.”

Blake’s jaw drops a little, “Really?”

You looked away and nervously cleared your throat, “You said ‘complete honesty’.”

“That I did.” She pauses, “In truth, you looked so good at that moment it was hard to _not_ do anything to you.” This time your jaw dropped. “You looked how a submissive should look, in my opinion. Vulnerable, willing, and wanting.” Her eyes go half lidded and her voice got breathy as she gave you another look over.

You and Blake stay there, looking at each other hungrily before the faunus slowly gets up, offering you her hand to help you up. Neither of you lets go of each other’s hand until Blake pulled the chair out for you and pushed you in properly.

When she sits and almost happily adds a note to her book you start to wonder, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You just seem to, how should I put this? Almost change personalities, like earlier you seemed so much more…serious than before. It felt almost as if there was a palpable switch. Now that I think about it, that same look and feel seemed to appear sometimes throughout our conversation, how do you do it?”  
Blake blinks, and sits back for a second to gather her thoughts, “I guess I have, haven’t I? Well, I sort of slip into my Dom headspace. It’s a different mindset or frame of mind. It’s comparable to method acting, in a way. I just assume a more demanding, and slightly sadistic personality, ready to take control… if that makes sense. Opposite of that is a—in this case specifically—a pet headspace, where you assume the personality of your inner pet, and become almost completely different. I can tell already that as much as you’d like to, it might take a little time for you to achieve that mindset. People have different ways of going about it, meditation, rituals/patterns, that sort of thing. Do you understand?”

“I guess. What makes you think I couldn’t do it?” you ask, not so much accusingly, but honestly curious.

Blake just looks at you, “Weiss, this may relax you and you obviously find comfort in it, but that’s not quite enough,” the pen in her hand is stabbed accusingly in your direction, “Control is not something that can be easily given up most of the time, and if I can be frank, your upbringing will probably get in the way, being drilled to be perfect and not fail means that you have to keep tabs on everything so your ducks don’t go out of their row. It’s ingrained. But the fact that you _want_ to let go is a big step forward, and while it may vary person to person, wanting to let go looks good and easy on paper, but not so much in practice. I’m actually kind of glad you took a week off so we can tackle this head on. But the good news is we might have a slight advantage. You’ve already conditioned yourself to be far more relaxed and open while wearing the collar, but once we add the ears is when the hard part begins.”

It takes awhile to fully digest all the information Blake had just dumped on you. As you watch her turn yet another page and start to fill nearly the whole page on it, you try to argue, but as soon as you open your mouth you realize you have little foothold within this argument. She’s right when she says you’re a bit of a control freak, she’s seen the full three inch binders with tabs and color coded highlighted lines coordinated with thin page marker sticky notes. Additionally, you hadn’t exactly realized how you let your guard down when collared. You always just thought it was (ironically) the sense of freedom to indulge in whatever you like and not be judged. It seems like it worked better than you imagined. Overall, Blake’s just more experienced, she knows what she’s talking about.

Hold on.

“Blake…have you done this sort of thing before?”

She pauses in her writing, “Yes.” She motioned to the book, “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Is that the reason why you have a ‘unusual amount of knowledge about sex toys’?” you refer to your first meeting in the store. Curious, you lean forward with your chin resting on your fist.

“Yes.” She doesn’t even blink.

“How experienced are you?”

Again, she answers with no problem, “In truth, I’m maybe mid-level or something, if we had to put a level on it. Not a beginner that’s for sure, but I haven’t dabbled with anything requiring subs for years. I did a lot of BDSM play for some time, uh, a year maybe? Every once in awhile since then, someone would ask me to tie them up occasionally, and I wouldn’t mind. Plus I still went a shibari class occasionally.” You furrow your brow, “It’s not only used for BDSM but is also considered an art. I think you’ll understand once I get you in a diamond tie.” Her smile is a little too wide to be considered normal.

“Have you ever done pet play before?” you venture.

Blake taps the pen to her chin, “No, not really. Not to this scale. There’s always the ‘treat your sub like a dog and lead them by a leash and stuff, but this dives further into the mindset than those comparatively ‘superficial’ actions. It’s far more specific.”

“So you’re kind of like a beginner to pet play like I am?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

You feel slightly better, although, you can’t tell if it’s because she’s in the same boat as you, or has never had another “pet”. You slouch against the back of the chair, “I think this is a good place to start then.” She looks up at you, waiting for elaboration, “You know what you’re doing, but you’re also new to this so I don’t feel so…behind, I suppose. We can experience this together. Besides, if neither of us had any experience, the fumbling around could lead into something turning out badly.” You make a quiet insecure laugh.

Of course, Blake catches this, “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we can enjoy this as much as we can—without anyone being hurt.” You trust her and her earnest words.

“Ok.” You nod and smile genuinely, comforted. Being behind the curve always made you nervous, everyone knowing what they were doing except you. That always made you feel belittled and inferior, forcing yourself to learn and surpass the others.

“I think that’ll cover it.” Blake says. You are about to get up when you see her turn yet another page and title it. You stay in your seat in frown, you feel like you’re at a meeting for quarterly profits and budgets. Someone always has another point to argue. “This next part is crucial, so _do not_ frown at me.” You’re about to scowl instead but a quick look up from her writings sets your face neutral instantly.

The end of the pen flies down the page, momentarily pausing every so often when Blake takes a look at you, then somewhere around the room before picking up its furious pace once more. The way she snaps the pen on the table has a sense of finality. “Now, whether you’re aware or not, one of a Dom’s responsibilities is to help the submissive better themselves. Whether through rules, daily exercises, or chores, we guide subs to evolve, do you understand?” You nod, feeling that talking should be waited on. But you do wonder where this is going, you know there are rules in BDSM, especially pet play but this feels different.  

“I am going to tell you the rules, I am willing to compromise on some, but there are ones that are absolutely iron-clad. Do you understand?” Again, you nod. She picks up the book and starts to read.

“Rule Number One: Listen to Mistress and Never Break a Rule.” She paused for a moment waiting for your reaction. “Rule Number Two: No Masturbation.”

“What! Why?”

She levels a heavy gaze upon you, “Because I own you, and I am the only source of your pleasure. Every time you’ll want to cum you’ll think of me and my fingers, my tongue, everything. You’ll want nothing more than for me to spoil you until you collapse, tired, used, and begging for more. Get it?”

You nod and press your thighs together.

“Good, next, Rule Number Three: Absolutely No Sex in the Kitchen. If I‘m cooking in there you are only allowed to come in to eat and drink.”

Her looked dared you to ask any questions, but you couldn’t help curiosity, “C-can I ask why?”

“We eat in there.” She makes a disgusted face. “We also prepare food in there. So unless you’d like to bleach and scrub the entirety of the kitchen, dishes, cabinets, the oven—outside and inside—and the outside of the fridge included, don’t break the rule.” You nod vigorously at that. It’s a spacious kitchen.

“Rule Four: You Aren’t Allowed to Bring Home No More Than an Hour’s Worth of Work.”

The sound of a record scratch sounded off in your head, “Blake! No! I can’t, there’s so much to take care of and—!”

“ _No_. Weiss, there are days when I come over only to have to wait two, three, even four hours before you drag yourself out of your study. And then my girlfriend’s too tired to do much, even go on a date sometimes. You’re a workaholic and you’re stretching yourself too thin. I know you’re going to take over the company, but you can’t do it if you’re tired or dead from stress.” That hits to close to the heart. There have been a time or two that a big problem or a project has come up and you take work home to perfect it or finish it. Causing you post-pone the date until later. You make sure the next one is even grander in apology, but now that you think about it, it might seem to Blake that your work came before your relationship and you’re trying to buy her favor. That isn’t fair. But on the other hand…

“Can I have one and a half hours?” you ask.

Blake stares, at you, not in a challenging way, just contemplative. She sighed, “That’s the highest I’m willing to go.”

“Fair enough” There’s too many assets, problems, projects and too much data to process that you can’t stop bringing home work, no matter how much you’d like not to.  

Her mood is visibly better after making her problems known, and you promising to do something about it.

She continues, “Rule Five: No Junkfood.” You cringe. “Thanks to your work habits, not only is your stress levels high but it affects more things in your life then one might notice at first glance.” Blake gets up and goes to the kitchen, and it’s hard not to whine when you see her grab the trash can and hauls it over right next to you. Undeterred by the grossness of the trash, she continues to make her point, grabbing each offensive bag, wrapper and carton, “McRonalds, Royal Burger, Mistral Express, Swirl Queen’s, R&B’s, Sandwich-path, 4 People, Vacuole, three different pizza places—it’s unhealthy as hell. You live on coffee, vending machine snacks—if you take the time to eat at work, that is—the occasional fancy restaurant meal, then on the days I don’t come over, you get something quick.”

You never really realized how much fast food you ate until it was placed in front of you. When you do look her in the eyes again she’s patiently waiting a response. When she doesn’t get one, she asks “Weiss, you don’t know how to cook do you?” Except the ways she says it makes it sounds like a statement of fact.

“No. Never learned.”

“Despite wanting to be on your own?”

“It…never really occurred to me until after I moved out, I had money though. And I kept saying I’d learn, but I got busy or rushed, and I never really sat down to figure anything out.” You say with slight shame and annoyance at yourself.

Blake processes this while putting the wrappers and such away, “What _can_ you cook?”

“Uh, sandwiches, if that counts. Eggs, scrambled and boiled. Canned soup and I’ve made pasta—spaghetti more specifically—once in a while.”

Blake blinks, “Pasta, huh? Well…that’s more than I was expecting. Listen, I’ll cook on the days I’m here, and I’ll teach you along the way. With your self-imposed workload cut down, you shouldn’t be too tired to watch me make some baked chicken. I expect you to make yourself something for dinner after I’ve taught you a few things.”

“Until then?”

“Until then, I’ll be sure to leave a bowl or two of something you can heat up and eat, okay?”

You nod, reminded of the times your Mom would occasionally cook for the family before the help had to completely take over that duty. “Okay, that’s fine. I knew I ate junk food a lot, but, I didn’t realize how much. I have no complaints. …Thank you.”

Blake hums in response while she comes back from putting the trash back and washing her hands. “Also, don’t be surprised if I give you a chore or two to do, or at least, do more often than you already do.” She smirks, “Like laundry.” You manage to keep your face straight by avoiding all thoughts about the implications. Blake goes back to the book, “For now this’ll be the last rule. If anything comes up we’ll talk about whether we should add onto the list. But until then, Rule Six: You _Must_ Have My Approval For..” She puts up her fingers as she counts it out, “Cumming, Junkfood—consider that a treat or privilege—and finally, buying anymore toys.” She harshly points to with her pen, “As amazing as that all is and despite the possibilities we can do with the wide range of choices, it is also _ridiculous_ how many you have. Not to mention how many you probably don’t know how to use. In fact, hand over the card you use for your pet play stuff.”

You stare at her hand when she puts it out, “You promise to be careful to not let anyone know?”

“I promise. I will also promise to use it only for play purposes like you intended. There are a few things I need to buy before we start training anyway.”

You slowly nod then go over to your room and retrieve the card from its hiding spot. You’re a little hesitant but you trust Blake, and you give her the details about the card. The PIN number, the amount on it—to which her eyes bulged at, looking between the already expensively stocked room and you—and how the card remained it’s anonymity among records in Vale. Mostly from being in an offshore account separate from any Schnee accounts or banks. The banks in Mistral are very professional, and didn’t ask too many questions at the amount of money being stored or the reason.

Blake nods and writes a list, from your seat you can make out the word “lotion” but not much else.

“Is there anything else?” You ask.

“Well, we have contraceptives and all that but we should still get tested, I haven’t had sex in awhile, like, 5 months before I met you, so I should still be clean, but it’s better to give you recent papers for proof.”

You nod, feeling assured, despite the fact that you believe Blake when she says that she hasn’t done anything. However, you have already taken care of things. You go over to the couch where the envelope from before sits, discarded after Blake pulled you into her arms. Bringing it over, Blake doesn’t seem too surprised when she opens it up to find a test proving your earlier claim of being clean. She snorts and shakes her head in a ‘I should of known’ way.

“Last questions. What is your pet name?”

“I was…going back and forth but I think ‘Princess’ suits me.” You grip the embossed tag on your collar, thumbing it and relaxing like many other instances when it was just yourself in the house.

“What kind of pet are you going to be? Animal wise.”

“I…keep changing my mind, I like being a kitten most, but I also like being a bunny, and a fox, or a bear, and so on.”

“It’s okay if you change day to day. It’s however you feel that’s best. Any medical conditions? Weak shoulders, herniated disks, previously broken bones that still cause discomfort, motion sickness, anything that you want me to be mindful of?”

“Nope.”

After going over the book and thinking it over, Blake nods at her satisfactory notes and results from the long conversation and closes the leather book, locking it back up. “Is…that it?” You ask, excitement running through your veins.

“Yeah I think that’s it. We can always make amendments late—!” Her sentence gets cut off when she is suddenly trapped in your embrace.  
For some reason, you have to blink away tears, but you don’t let it show in your voice, “Thank you, Blake. I mean, for making this a reality for me.” The faunus relaxes and returns your hug.

When the threat of happy tears is no longer present you pull away and pull her up by the arms. “You’re welcome, Weiss.” She picks you up, making you instinctively wrap your legs around her. “Now, let’s get you fed, and then into bed. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, and an even longer week of training.”

Neither of you can wait.          


	2. Train Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The training begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it it is, after much waiting, the second chapter. Originally it was gonna be like 20,000 to 25,000 words to just get it out of the way, but time constraints, and plain realizing that this “arc” might be even longer than I thought, I’m splitting it up into parts there might be one or two more parts for training your very own Princess Shitlord

If you knew it was going to be like this, you wouldn’t have taken half days.

Your father was surprised, to say the least, when you came into his office asking for a week’s vacation. Typically, Schnee work ethic meant that unless you were deathly ill, you came into work anyway. And being a junior executive working under your father and technically the second most powerful person in the corporation also meant you handled a hefty workload.

But somehow, he agreed. While you still aren’t so sure about his exact reasons, but you do think you heard him mutter something about evaluating how those ‘bumbling half-competent expendables’ would manage without you pulling the lion’s share of the work. Of course, diabolical chuckles came after that but since you got what you wanted you didn’t care to spare any empathy.

However, such a long vacation came with a price; many meetings that required your attention/input were pushed up and you were going to spend all day in a increasingly uncomfortable office chair listening to sweaty idiots blather over numbers and ‘you should dos’. Despite your considerable power, the fact that you have ‘junior’ in front of the executive part of your title apparently meant they could attempt to sway you, if not straight up tell you what to do. Kissass manipulators, the lot of them.

In one of the scant, precious breaks between meetings your scroll rings. You blush when you see that the number calling you is an unlisted number. Which can mean only one thing:

Blake.

Security reasons (read: paranoia) prompted you to get a very special and private scroll with an unlisted number, tower bouncing technology, and three walls of security to get into not to mention the latest in anti-hack and anti-virus protection. This private scroll was to be used for anything play related. So if anyone should find it, they can’t get in. Plus any activity you share with this scroll is code protected and automatically deletes the logs after three days.

You type in the 10-digit code and check the text she sent you.

**Dogs, cats or both?**

What in the world…? Fingers fly to answer _Both, but why?_

**Reasons.**

_Real mysterious Blake._

**It’s my specialty. Bears or Bunnies, or both?**

_Both. So you’re really not going to tell me?_

**You’ll see. Dolphins or monkeys?**

_Ew. Dolphins, definitely._

**Not a fan?**

_I just don’t like having feces thrown at me. Or bananas. Or some unholy combination of both._

**Mm. I will admit the ones they have here ARE pretty creepy. But monkeys aren’t bad, annoying maybe, but not bad.**

_Excuse me if I hold my reservations. Where are you?_

**Out.**

At work?

**I’m at a place.**

_You’re deflecting. Horribly, might I add_.

**Birds or stars?**

_Blake._

**You strike me as more a star person.**

_Blake._

**I’m going with stars. Squirrels are cute, and goldfish. Maybe koi would be better.**

_BLAKE._

**Yes?**

_Why all the questions? What are you doing?_

**What? A girl can’t attempt to learn more about her girlfriend?**

_I doubt the reason is as simple as that._

**Your doubt is noted. Purple or Green?**

_Purple. Fine, I’ll humor you this time._

**Excellent. Lions or Tigers?**

_Both, but I like lions a little more._

**Penguins or Snowmen?**

_Penguins._

**Horses or Zebras?**

_Zebras._

**Triangles or Ovals?**

_Triangles._

**Alright, I think that covers it.**

_Thank god._

**No need to thank me. I’ll see you later.**

_Bye, Miss Mystery._

Just as the new members of your next meeting arrive you close your scroll, cursing how all you can think about are those strange questions. What could she possibly be doing?

* * *

It feels so good to be home. You kick off your heels and take off your suit jacket as you make your way to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. While the suits may be fitted, something about work just makes them feel much heavier and claustrophobic. Along the way you drop off your briefcase in the study like you always do, but something catches your eye.

A large and gaudy neon yellow alarm clock sits on your oak desk. It was so ostentatious and clashed with absolutely everything in the study, which was decorated with browns and earth tones. Faded reds, blue and greens of binders and books being the only colors that complimented the wood brown color that dominated the room. On its face you can see the numbers at 1:30 despite you knowing that it’s way off since you left the SDC building around 1: 40. Before you go to adjust it you see some letters in the same blue color as the numbers, saying STPWTCH.

It seems Blake’s going to make sure you know when to stop. But at least she gave you the maximum amount, which is good since the amount of papers you have to sign and go over is a little…much. You inspect the new addition for a moment longer, biting your lip and feeling a light, electric sensation in your belly. A Rule is already in effect and being enforced, some of the aspects of a BDSM relationship are already being presented into your daily life. You didn’t expect it so soon.

With a skip in your step you continue to the bedroom. Off came the suit, and on came some shorts and a tank top. On a whim you undo your side ponytail—sometimes the cause of phantom headaches—and shake out your long hair. Lastly, you went over to the footlocker at the foot of your bed and opened it, looking over your various collars, considering which to wear. After a moment you choose the simple red one with a large silver bell and clip on the tag you got on the day you met Blake, the one that said “Princess” your new pet name. You say the name to yourself and blush a bit at how happy you felt at something as silly and trivial as a name.

But this name had a lot more weight to it.

You indulge yourself and tap the bell and tag to relish the clear ring that they produced from knocking up against one another. After a pleased hum, you go back into the study and busy yourself by making a pot of tea and getting to work on your considerable amount of paperwork.

Whether it’s because you’re excited, or because you keep your eye on the clock, you seem to work faster than usual.

Of course you have to waste a full minute to recover from the fact that the 15 minute warning alarm was personalized to _“Bow-chicka-wow-wow”_ a noise you’re sure will haunt you forever.

The alarm blared and made you jump. Had the apartment not been soundproofed the whole building would have heard this ungodly racket.

A quick look-over to check for errors, then you neatly collect the papers and shuffle them to your briefcase, the few unfinished documents were placed in an “in” box. If permitted, those will be finished tomorrow.

Despite feeling accomplished, it still takes a good five minutes of worrying your lip before managing to pull away from the room, the stack of papers seemed so very daunting. Blake is right; you may have a slight workaholic problem.

Now that’s all to do is wait. Today, Blake had a later shift, and while it was only half as much she still wouldn’t be here for almost two hours. Ugh.

After all that work, you feel a bit famished. When you open up the fridge door you almost squeal in happiness at seeing a homemade fruit bowl waiting patiently for you, adorned with a simple note on a post-it: _“Enjoy your snack, Princess.”_

Maybe it’s mildly strange that you find this to be so romantic, but neither you nor your stomach cares.

* * *

After what you swear to be an eternity, you hear a knock at the door—well more like a kick at the door. “Weiss? It’s me.”

Excitedly your head pops up and you race to the door, a quick look in the peephole reveals Blake standing there with a satisfied look on her face, and two large black garbage bags filled to the brim in each hand. Her golden eyes look down directly into the glass viewer as if she can see you right through it. That intensity of her gaze…yeah, you think she’s already in Dom mode. The butterflies flapping around your stomach cause your fingers to fumble as you undo the locks.

Cautiously, open the door for her, when she passes by you her eyes slide down to the red collar that stands out on your pale skin. She smirks in obvious approval, and it only gets wider when you nervously swallow hard enough that the metal decorations jingle loudly. Ignoring the quiet chuckles you close and lock the door and pause for a moment to take a deep breath to steady yourself and your racing heart.

Of course, that goes out the window when you turn around but you can’t even take one step before Blake grabs you by the hips and pins you to the door, quieting your surprised yelp with a deep kiss. When the initial shock passes you join in the kiss and match her enthusiasm. Your hands grip the front of her shirt to pull her down closer, and you moan when her tongue licks yours, she doesn’t have to wait for you to surrender to her. Blake’s fangs, usually restrained, are now just as involved as her lips, playing chicken with your lips and tongue, sparking the sense of danger that makes you moan. She pulls away and licks her lips, “Mm, pineapples, I see you found the snack I left for you.”

“Y-yes.” Your voice is weaker than normal.

“Did you like it?” She husks. Your throat is so suddenly dry without her lips on yours so you just nod. “Good. Expect pineapples, mangoes and cranberries to be a large part of your diet from now on.”

Blake goes back to pinning you with her aggressive kiss and presses you further into the door. The faunus’ hands move from your hips to dip thumbs under your top and slowly lift up to make way for her warm palms and spread fingers to explore the expanse of your smooth stomach. Her nails drag and tease, especially around the small of your back making you jump onto your toes and into her.

Both of you can barely separate, fast breaths are all you can steal before her lips claim yours over and over again, keeping a fog in your mind present. Blake’s kiss draws out little moans and whimpers that slip from your throat without your permission, and you get the feeling that Blake has been holding back.

The kiss is nice but a squeal from you cuts it when the cool air is suddenly between your legs and most notably, your core. Blake has ripped your shorts and underwear down to your knees and smirks at what she finds. An embarrassing wet spot from how horny you didn’t even know you were, not to mention a strand of cum that led from it to your heat. The faunus’ hands keep your legs open despite your meager struggle and she licks her lips. “I’ve kept you waiting, haven’t I?” It wasn’t a question but a statement. She kisses your cheek in a light apology, you blush at the affection but, it’s nothing compared to the redness of your face when you see her hand go to your apex.

Her finger curls upward to collect the thick strand, ghosting ever so lightly on your heated slit before she completely pulls away and sticks the finger in her mouth to sample you. She smiles and turns away, leaving you red faced and shocked against the door.

It takes a long moment but you come to your senses and pull up your bottoms, trying to ignore the new, strong sensation of your own arousal. You’ll change later. “S-so what are in those?” The bags are extra large and dark, making it hard to make anything out, and the strange shapes only confuse you more, making a guess impossible.

“Just some supplies.” You frown, more vague answers. You march past and reach out but your hand is smacked away before you can touch one of the bags. “Nuh-uh-uh, you’ll wait and see. Right?” You cross your arms and grumble, “ _Right?_ ” Her voice is cutting and brokers no argument.

“Yes, fine, I won’t touch them.”

She smiles and pats your head, “Good. Now stay here.” You lean on one leg and glare at the bags before watching where Blake was headed. You aren’t wholly surprised to see her turn into the study, by angling your head you can see her fiddle with the loud clock and reset it. She comes back out and leans out the doorway, pleased with what she found, “Nice job. I was worried that you might have reset it after the initial time ran out.”

“Even if I did how would you know?” you ask, genuinely curious.

She flicks her head towards the room to invite you in and you make a beeline straight for the clock. A second look brings your attention to tiny letters next to where it said STPWATCH spelling out “trial” and a small number two next to it. You face blanches, the new word is so small that unlit it was almost invisible, and with the neon coloring being so eye-catching, you were successfully misdirected. Had you have tried to sneak some extra time you would’ve been caught red-handed.

She’s good.

Too good even.

As you stare at what have been your downfall Blake comes from behind and tugs you into a loose embrace, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you are an untamed, stubborn, and most importantly, one hell of a workaholic pet.” She turns you around and lifts your face with a finger. “It’s better to have some precautions in place until you’re completely and properly trained.”

“What if had tried?” You ask, unable to look away from those burning orbs.

“Severe punishment, just to get the point across.” It’s tempting to ask what exactly it would have been, but the dark look Blake had on her face made you think better of it. Her face lightens up and she brushes some strands of hair out of your face and then holds the tag with your pet name on it. She kisses you on the forehead and leads you out, “Now that I’m here, its best we get started, yeah?”

Your eyes shine and you can’t stop the silly grin from overwhelming your face, “Really?”

“Go ahead and get dressed and wait for me to pick you up.” She gives you an encouraging smack on the ass that makes you jump and her grin. You sent a playfully annoyed look back before nearly running to your room, bells ringing like mad, and closing the door.

God, this has been all you could think about all day. You strip off your clothes and underwear and open your lingerie drawer. There were so many choices to choose from, and after some consideration and mixing and matching you decide that light purple with black lace would be an excellent choice to put with the cendrillon panties in cage style. It had thinner lace at bottom— allowing easy access for both entrances—makes your ass look absolutely irresistible. The purple in the front was a step away from sheer and the black embroidery teases the viewer.

Next was the lace kiss garter belt, a style that had a triangular shape that thinned as it reach towards the mons, it rode high in the back with smaller fabric triangles so as not to ruin the view of the cendrillon. It’s decorated in intricate purple lace and you pair it with black straps to keep the theme going. On your legs are purple sheer thigh high stockings with black lace at the top that look as if it seamlessly melted into the purple.

You think about keeping the red collar on, but with your current color palette, it might be too loud to act as an accent, but the simple black collar works, and then you make sure to put the golden bell and your name tag on it.

Looking over yourself in the mirror, you were quite satisfied, and more than sure Blake would be too. You bite your lip, considering something before shrugging to yourself and turning around, only this time you bend over and like you thought, your slit’s visible with a hint of pink that really added to the tease. You widen your legs and blush at the increasing amount of the soft color contrasting on your pale skin.

Perfect.

Now the coup de grace, the ears and tail.

This time you know exactly what you wanted from the footlocker. You knew since breakfast, and with Blake’s added comment about you being a wild animal at this stage, it only supports your choice more.

You reach in and pick the light silver wolf ears with the clear band.

Looking at it gives you such a rush and glancing over to the mirror makes you more impatient. You’ve experimented with the various accessories before, but this has so much more meaning than simply dreaming. It’s finally going to happen, you really are about to be Blake’s pet. _Maybe…maybe I should let Blake do this…_ you ponder.

After all, a Princess should be crowned, right?

The last thing you take out is the tail. Now, this part of the costume fascinates and frustrates you. You wanted to put it in and walk around but you have no idea what you’re doing, and it scared you a bit—written instructions and real life can have different results. Hopefully Blake will walk in here and teach you how to put it in.

Speaking of, what is she doing, anyway?

Obviously it has to do with whatever’s in those bags, but it’s been a good fifteen minutes now since she told you to prepare. Is there really that much stuff in them?

Luckily, the wondering only lasts a little longer before a knock comes from Blake, “Princess? You ready?”

You’ve been ready all day.

You spring up and brush away imaginary dust; you straighten out every strap, from your garters to the ribbons on your panties. You are going to look perfect for your new owner.

You stand in front of the door and straighten out ivory tresses, and give one last look at the ears on the bed before breathing in, “Yes, come in!” It’s impossible to hide your excitement.

Blake chuckles and turns the doorknob, “You really are enthusiastic…about…this…” You smile sweetly, keeping your gaze on Blake’s scouring eyes that dilate and roam from one part of your lingerie to another. The doorknob strains under Blake’s white-knuckled grip, her exposed ears are standing at attention, and her tail curls and flicks behind her.

She swallows to soothe her undoubtedly parched throat, “Those…are my colors…”

“Well I _am_ yours, right?” you tilt your head, loving the tight jaw the faunus has.

“Yes, yes you are. Or at least, almost.”

Before you can ask she reaches in her back pocket and produces a gently rolled piece of long stationary.

“It’s—it looks so official…” you gasp. In Blake’s hand is an ornate contract, decorated with a reflective gold patterned boarder on the inside. The top had large, beautiful calligraphy proudly spelling out the simple title:

_Pet Contract_

You slowly approach the faunus and gently take the paper into your own hands as if it were precious and fragile gem, something out of a dream and better than you could imagine.

In clear words the body of text outlines the rules and expectations of a good pet; a subsection at the bottom has smaller print for meant for Blake detailing what it means to be a good owner and what she promises to not ever do, some of your limits included.

In the corners are watermarked seals that are obviously made up. For instance you doubt the words “slut”, “bitch”, and cuss words that were cleverly integrated into the middle of the circle written in Latin. One of them, in the bottom left corner, is Blake’s symbol, large and proud in black. Although there’s a suspiciously professional indent stamp on the bottom right corner proclaiming that this contract is approved by the “Lesbian Sex Mafia”.  

At the bottom are two lines, the single one on the left had the word “OWNER” under it written in the same gold leaf as the boarder, shining as beautiful as the sunrise. On the line is Blake’s bold cursive signature comprised of perfect circles and loops that spoke of hours dedicated to practice a beautiful way to leave her mark. On the right side is the other line set up the same, the only difference being the “PET” under it.

“Once this is signed, you belong to me whenever we play. You are my pet, my property, my responsibility. And in return I promise to be the best Owner a pet could ever have.” She winks at you, “And the fine print says we can always make amendments, if necessary.”

Of, course, there is no fine print. Just her saying that this contract—while it’s partially a prop, still holds a solemn promise for respect and trust.

She offers you a pen and you go over to the small sitting area on the far side of your spacious room, the coffee table hardly used except for spreading out blueprints (which were quickly snatched up by Blake and taken somewhere else, hidden probably) and you lay the decorated paper down and smooth it out. Slowly lower yourself onto the luxurious futon to sit and admire the stationary and memorize the patterns, stamps and most importantly the printed out promises.  

Blake comes over and stands by you, unable to hide her excitement, “Just sign your pet name.”

The fountain pen flows easily leaving your cursive signature of “ _Princess Belladonna_ ” on the line.

Before the ink even dries an olive hand snatches your collar and Blake kisses you _hard_. “You little shit,” she mumbles against you lips, “Bold, putting my family name after your first.” You savor her kiss for a little while longer, incredibly prideful of how you made Blake so happy and excited she’s almost offended.

The faunus pulls away from you and runs her fingers down your collar and finally ending up at the tags she embossed so long ago. You take her hand and kiss each knuckle, “I did it because I do belong to you.”

“Mine,” She whispers, letting you lavish her hand with attention. Slowly you pull away and look up into her amber eyes, waiting. She sighs good-naturedly and pulls you up by the hand so you are flush with her body. “From now on, you will refer to me as ‘Mistress’, understood?”

“Yes…Mistress.” Both of you go a little red at that, especially you because you didn’t mean to make it so…husky.

Blak—you mean, Mistress—licks her lips and holds your cheek, rubbing the apple of it. She hugs you somehow closer than before and her hands start to wander.

It takes everything you have to not giggle when Mistress inhales sharply as she feels your exposed ass.

Too busy with the contract and moving papers, she must not have noticed your special underwear from the back. “What is this?” She asks calmly.

“They’re called cendrillons.” Pulling away, you walk to the bed with a noticeable sway, smirking at the nearly stifled groan. “I thought these might be a good idea since it would allow…easy access,”

Mistress passes you, keeping eye contact before leaning over the bed and carefully grabbing the ears, she smirks and looks at you out of the corner of her eye, scheming. “What about your ears?”

You body feels really warm, maybe that’s because of the blush on your cheeks, maybe it’s because her gaze is piercing, “I was hoping that you…could you know, do the honors?”

Her head tips up in intrigue, “Not a bad idea.” She brushes her thumb on the high quality material of the fake appendages, “In fact, this would be a good time for your first ‘lesson’.” Her voice drops an octave, and she grins widely as she says the last word. Your chest feels tight, and your voice box short circuited. Unable to say much, you nod, waiting for her to continue. “Sit down on the ground, on your legs. Yeah, that’s good. Now, you remember what I said about petspace?” she continues after getting a nod, “And how I said people had rituals and such to help them? Well, here’s what we’re going to do, I’m going to ask you questions, and you answer.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, you have to answer correctly, of course. I’ll just…guide you—ultimately you have to find the answers yourself.”

“I thought you said that it would be hard for me to get into petspace?”

“What I was talking about was a much deeper level then I think you’re capable of. But, dreaming and acting like a pet will at least be a milestone. Does that make sense?”

“I think.”

“Okay, we’re going to start now.” She draws close and stands tall; a cool sensation falls over you, as if a long shadow had just engulfed your small form. “First question, what is your name?”

Catching yourself from almost making the ‘W’ sound of your name, your real name, you quickly shut your lips, resetting your answer. Mistress’ eyes widen the smallest bit, seeing your hesitation, “My name is… Princess.” You say, somewhat tilting the end of your sentence.

“You sure? How can you not know your name?” She says, crossing her arms and looking cross and somewhat disappointed. “What is your name?”

“My name is Princess.” You say with more conviction.

“Hm, is it?”

You frown the tiniest bit, “Yes, it’s Princess, my name is Princess.” The name comes out in slight growl; offense plain in a passive aggressive tone.

Had this been any other time you’re sure that this would have ended up in reprimand, but Mistress only nods slightly, pleased at how adamant you are about something as simple as you name. “Alright, Princess. Now who am I?”

This one is kind of confusing, wasn’t that obvious? “My owner.” Your brows scrunch together.

“Oh?”

Okay…now you’re really confused. What does ‘Oh?’ mean?

There’s a long pause where the faunus simply looks at you, eyebrow raised like she was waiting for something. The silence makes you nervous and you wet your lips, “Isn’t there another question…?”

“Isn’t there another answer?” She retorts in a creepily accurate imitation of your voice, unnerving you.

You eyes flit from one thing to the next, “Um—“

“Don’t start your sentence with ‘um’.” She cuts in.

Alrighty then. You sit for a second thinking out your response, “My trainer?” More silence, apparently not. “My…Mistress?”

This gets a little reaction, “Go on.”

What more are you supposed to say? If that’s the right title then why do you—hold on. Pets are supposed to be devoted, thinking the world of their owners…human or animal.

Looking back into her eyes you smile and say, “You’re my esteemed Mistress.”

She smirks a bit, “’Esteemed’ huh?”

“My revered Mistress?”

“Colder.”

 _Wait, wait, wait. Colder? As in hot and cold?_ But now that you think about it, those adjectives _are_ a bit…impersonal.

You think for a minute, what would still be respectful, but not ridged? “My beloved Mistress.” You say finally.

The faunus makes a thoughtful expression, and then nods slowly. “What a kind pet. Who am I?”

“You’re my beloved Mistress!” you say, a little happy to have gotten the right answer. Mistress chuckles and pats your head.

“So cute.” She approves. The blush in your face returns and you turn away slightly, smiling softly. “Next question: What are you?”

Again with open-ended questions. It wouldn’t hurt to go with the most obvious answer and go from there. “I’m your pet.” You say matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes. But not the answer I’m looking for. Let’s put it this way, I need two answers for this one question. They are your station relative to me.”

Big hint. Sort of. “My station…you mean, that I’m below you?” You guess.

“Good, good. Know your station is beneath me, and stay in your lane. So, Princess, what do you think is the other part?” You shake your head. “If one is your station, then what are you _to_ me?”

“Your property.”

“Getting close.”

You rack your brain for a moment, “Your plaything?”

Mistress grins and pats your head, “Very good, well said.”

“So I’m beneath you and your plaything.” She nods.

“Now the last question: ‘And you are?’ this has to do with what you are right now.”

Right now? Oh! “I’m a wolf!”

“How would you describe yourself?”

“I’m a ferocious wolf.” You puff up your chest. Mistress only snorts.

“More like a silly wolf.” You frown. She stands up as straight as she can. “Now that we have the answers, let’s review; What is your name?”

“Princess.”

“Who am I?”

“My beloved Mistress!”

“What are you?”

“Beneath you, and your plaything.”

“And?”

“A…silly wolf.”

Mistress beamed, “Well done. I think you’ve earned these.” She waves the wolf ears in front of you and your eyes light up. “Bow your head a little.” You close your eyes and do as she says. The new pressure of the band slides on and is adjusted do the very bottom rests behind your ears and that the ears are on perfectly straight. Mistress pulls at the fur of the ears to make them stand out, and plays with your hair a bit so that the band is hidden even more within your tresses.

A finger on your chin lifts your head up, “You can open them now.” Mistress says.

Your eyes slowly flutter open and the first thing you see is Mistress’ serene smile. She points her head to the mirror in your room and lets you go to bound up to it. When you see yourself, it’s impossible to help the grin plastered on your face. The ears match with your hair and eyes perfectly, and none of the band could be seen.

God, you feel so giddy right now.

It seems that your smile is contagious and Mistress seems to be almost as ecstatic as you. “Happy?” You turn your head this way and that before nodding. Sitting up and setting your back straight, you take in the full image of your pet self.

It looks and feels so good.

The lingerie in your Mistress’ colors certainly marks you as hers and it looks good on you, which is a plus because even now you can see her running her eyes up and down in the mirror. And the ears. The _ears_. They look as though they really are naturally poking out of your head, seamless and outstanding. You feel like a wolf, and look like one.

Well, except for one detail.

You stand up quickly and bend over the bed to grab the tail, not totally surprised at the explorative hands playing with the ribbons in the back of your cendrillons and thumbing over the lacy designs. You squeak when she snaps your garters, making her snigger at your reaction. A hand teases along the inside of your thigh, and you spread your legs accordingly, getting back at her with a nice little show of your core that makes her tremble. “See? Like I said: easy access. I also thought they’d be a good idea since my tail could hang out easily and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Mistress hooks a finger through the metal ring on the back and tugs you away from the plug, simultaneously backing up a cutting off bodily contact. “Who said you’d be getting a tail?”

You frown, “Um…you?”

“I said ears, nothing about a tail.”

You turn your head, “But—!”

She glares, waiting for you to say more, but you wisely shut it, “Not yet, Princess.”

You pout, “Can I ask why?”

“The reason is simple; you are just not ready for it. You don’t even know how to lick pussy and suck dick but you expect to _skip_ all those steps…just because? Such hubris.”  It’s hard but you swallow your whine; you really want your tail. Mistress hums and presses herself onto your back, keeping you in place. She moves her mouth to your ear and whispers, “Think of your tail as a…graduation present.”

“G-graduation present?”

“When you are fully trained, and are a full-fledged pet, you’ll get your beloved tail. I’ll put it in myself and fuck you while it’s in.” Her voice is so dark and sultry, and the image…your face goes red and you look off to the side.

“I-I see. Sorry, Mistress. I’ll wait.”

Mistress slowly stands up from leaning over your back, and goes back to appreciating your outfit. She takes her sweet time, running her hands on your torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She reaches the ribbons tying together the hemlines of your panties on your waist and on your thigh. The faunus massages your behind and strums the strands like a guitar, fingertips playing with you by ghosting over skin. “Interesting. Spread ‘em.” You do as she says and widen your stance, “Heh, oh look at this, we have the makings of a real slut here.” That wicked hand touches your core, actually touches it this time, and drags fingers down your slit. A little gasp escapes your mouth; the stroke’s so good on your throbbing center. You feel cold when the hand stoking your neglected fire moves away, “My, my, Princess, you’re even wetter than before.” You look back in time to catch Mistress put two of the three damp fingers in her mouth. She sucks and groans approvingly, “Rich, but I’m not surprised. Have you ever tasted your own cum before?” Blushing, you nod. The faunus’ smirk makes your face hotter. She brings the last finger dipped in your juices by your head and you immediately know what she wants.

When you reach out to bring the finger closer, she slaps your hand away, “Don’t grab my hand with those paws of yours.” She reprimands. So instead, you move your head to the offered digit and begin to clean it. Thanks to your earlier treat, you do note that it seems to be less salty than before. Thoroughly, you clean the finger and then slide back, releasing it from your mouth. She stares at you for a moment then smirks, “I knew you’d look good sucking dick. That little preview proves it. But then again, pure-bred sluts are the best at it.”

Did you really look that good?

Mistress tells you to stay like that, bent over the bed while she went to get something for you. Meanwhile the tail sits on the bed, mocking you. So close yet so far, but…you guess it will be all the more sweeter when you ‘graduate’.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Mistress come back and move behind you again. “Lift your right leg up, good, now the left.” As she instructs you, the feeling of fabric brushes against the side your legs. “Stand.” Straightening up grants the chance to look down at what she’s doing.

“Mistress? What’s this?” you jolt when something fluffy brushes up against your calves.

“A training tail. Think of it like training wheels, just a little crutch until you’re ready for the real thing.” She backs away and you look behind you so fast like you were competing with an owl. Just like she said there’s a silver wolf’s tail swinging behind you. A sway of hips gets the addition to swing back and forth, and while you are still disappointed about not having a plug, you can’t deny the fact that just having some kind of tail makes you happy. Even if it is on a thin black band around your waist, it’s something. “Better?” Mistress asks as she sits down on the bed and pats her lap, her harsh tone gone from her voice.

You quickly crawl into her lap and sit sideways. “Yes, Mistress.” She threads her fingers through ivory tresses and holds you close.

“You are going to have quite a few lessons on how to be a competent little pet. You know this right?”

You nod. “But I bet I can do it in days, instead of the whole week!”

The faunus chuckles and kisses your lips in a chaste but sweet way. “Maybe. Now do want to see what I bought?”

Your back is ramrod straight as you perk up, immense curiosity fuels your actions.

Mistress rolls her eyes in a friendly way and lifts you off her lap and onto the bed. The footlocker is opened up and she gets out a black leash. Your owner beckons you over with a finger, and you instantly get on all fours and make it over to her feet, and you try to not linger on the goosebumps your tail leaves when it unexpectedly brushes your thighs. You sit before her and lift your head almost proudly, ready to walk by a worthy owner. The faunus catches your egotism and scoffs a little while clipping you, “You are adorable, but I can see you’re going to cause all sorts of trouble.” She holds your cheek fondly for a moment before she stands and wraps the length of the leash around her hand once.

Even though it’s a short walk, when you’re on your hands and knees it’s a bit longer. Mistress keeps a slow and even pace, reacting to you figuring the best way of how to walk like this without looking ridiculous or hurting your knees too much. You manage a little system somehow.

You look around suspiciously swinging your head around to spot even the smallest difference. The only new thing you see though are two silver pet bowls with your pet name inscribed on it sitting on a little shelf no higher than foot. They glimmer in the kitchen lighting, brightening up the far corner they’ve been set up in.

Mistress tugs the leash lightly a few times to get your attention. She leads you into the living room and uses her free arm to gesture in a dramatic wave to the couch.

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

Everything makes sense now. That conversation while she was at work…it wasn’t random at all, she specifically asked you so that she could pick out the best choices.

The best choice of stuffed animals!

They were placed aesthetically on your large paw shaped pet bed so that you could see every single one. It was such a glorious sight.

You almost choke yourself pulling against the taut leash. You turn back and shake your tail while looking pleadingly at her, “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Mistress!”

The clasp is hastily taken off, and now unleashed, you jump into the soft cushion and roll around on your stomach, and then spin onto your back with a puffy zebra held up in the air for you to gaze at and be overwhelmed by the cuteness. A closer look and there are all sorts of animals and in different sizes, one is nearly four feet tall. There are Rabbits, dogs, cats, dolphins, star shaped pillows, penguins, lions, tigers, and bears! “Oh my god you bought all of these?”

“There was so much empty space when you sit on that, thought it might be good to fill it up.” Your owner smiles while you look each one over.

“Lots of prey…” you murmur.

“Speaking of, I got you some ‘prey’ to go with all of that.” As soon as Mistress finishes you are at her feet. She laughs and pats your head. The faunus goes over to the severely atrophied bag and reaches in only to bring out a much smaller white bag with the name of a common pet store chain—for actual animals—which makes you wonder, what she could possibly get you from there?

_Squee-eer squeek-eerrr_

Oh no.

There’s that smug smile, the one that foreshadowed mischief.

Out from the bag was an elongated chicken squeak-toy.

Stunned silence.

And then, “I can’t believe you actually got that.”

“It was there,” she shrugged, “And I wanted to see you with it in your mouth my little pup.”

_Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t…_

There’s no stopping it. The blush isn’t just the burning in your cheeks, but a full body blush; made all the more visible because of your pale skin.

Mistress’ stupid sexy, and terribly smug smile is back, “Oh. I see. You got hot just from me calling you a pup?” You can’t meet her eyes, but you sure can feel the heated gaze. And it’s times like these you really, really hate how silently the faunus can move, because she suddenly grabs your chin and forces you to look at her alluring amber orbs, flickering with the all too familiar flames of desire that you’ve recognized over time in your relationship. “Aww, is the big bad wolf just a shy little puppy?” God, just the way she says it has you trapped, sparking your eager lust that had been simmering on the surface. It takes you forever to snap out of your trance but even then you can only make snippets of words that might have been retorts. Mistress patted your cheek and moved away not bothering to hide her amusement.

She tosses out a few more toys that needed to be immediately inspected…for reasons. Two plastic dumbbells, a foam ball and likewise and plastic playground ball that had a bit lift so it could gently fall down, minimizing any mess. Surprisingly, she had a stuffed beaver that was a squeaky toy, and a stuffed carrot squeaker.

“It’s for whenever you’re a bunny. Got to feed herbivores the right food.” Mistress says and then orders you to put them in a pile to make it easier to pick up later. That black bag is full of surprises because the next thing is a small rectangle cardboard box held together with a ribbon and bow. When it’s in your lap you notice that the faunus is looking pretty self-assured. Carefully you undo the knot, flicking your eyes between Mistress and the box, convinced that there might be a trap.

You move the sheer gift tissue and see a bunch of…socks? “What.”

Mistress snorts and laughs, “I knew you’d say that.”

“Mistress, am I to understand you gave me socks or—what are these?” As soon as the fabric is in your hands you knew these were high quality. The faunus takes the white square of fabric and unfolds it. At first you realize that these were actually thigh highs. But it didn’t make sense, Mistress knows about your impressive amounts of lingerie including thigh highs. Curious, you watch carefully and see a touch of pink on the bottom. Finally, she holds it up and you almost lose your mind.

They were thigh highs, alright. Thigh highs with paw prints on the bottom!

The sheer paper complains when you dig for the neatly folded squares, you see they are all paw print stockings, different colors and different species. Your excitement boils over, causing you to launch yourself at your owner hugging her and thanking her for all the gifts. She wheezes and laughs, not fully ready for an excited pet to run her over.

“Okay, okay!” Pulling back, you can see Mistress’ kind smile, a genuinely happy one. After she sits up, she pets you a few times before saying, “Now, are you ready to start training?”

You nod excitedly and crouch, with your bottom up and tail wagging.

“Adorable. Now, let’s start with a few easy tricks.” Mistress went into the kitchen and opened an overhead cabinet. “I got a few things as treats, for encouragement. I think you’ll really like these.” From a yellow box she pulled out a square silver pouch. You could see on the package the brandname ‘Gushers’, you’ve never heard of them. She returns to the living room, tears it open and pulls out a little red hexagon and holds it out to you. Wary, you inspect it; the snack smells good at least. “Want to try?” You nod and move even closer, checking with a glance that it was okay to take it. Mistress doesn’t move it so you slowly retrieve the snack with only your mouth.

 _It’s so good!_ You can’t stop yourself from making a pleased trill. The jelly filling coats your tongue in a burst of cherry flavor. You chew it for bit longer to savor it, and then stamp the ground with your hands, excitedly barking in a bid for more. Mistress laughs and obliges by puting two more Gushers in her hand and putting it out for you to gobble up with abandon, wagging your tail excitedly.

“So you like it?” She asks.

“Yes, Mistress! Can I have another?”    

“If you properly perform these tricks, then you will be rewarded. “ You back up from her legs and get ready. She holds her hand out, flat and parallel to the ground, “Down.” You lay down with your knees and elbows under you. “Good girl. A treat for you.” You yip and trot over to her open palm. But the hand closes and is lifted above Mistress’ head. “Did I say you could get up?”

Oh. “No, Mistress.” She puts the treat away and shoos you back.

She makes the same hand sign. “Down.” Once more you push yourself to the ground. You hear the pouch crinkle but you hold your position. There’s a minute or two of pure silence before Mistress makes an approving hum. “Very good, _now_ you can get up and have a treat.” Eagerly you hop up and get your reward. “Alright, alright, go back.” She spins her finger in a circle, “Over. Roll over girl.”

The world goes upside down when you lay on your back, belly exposed, on a whim you put your loosely clenched fists up just like a dog’s paws. “Legs too,” She instructs, and you bend your legs to your chest.

“Good girl, very good.” She spins her finger again, “Roll back over.” And you get back into the ‘down’ position. She bends down and holds her out the delicious cargo in her palm, but you don’t move. “Heh, Heh, caught on have you? Come on, get your treat. In fact, have two.” Her palm is quickly filled and then quickly emptied. “Okay, but calm down, you down want to bite me by accident do you?”

Sheepishly you shake your head, “No Mistress, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Your enthusiasm is absolutely adorable. Now, the next trick.”  She stretches out her arm, making a loose cup shape with her fingers “Shake.” Your hand is quickly put in hers. She nods, “Excellent.” Your hand is flipped over and two treats are shaken out into your palm, when Mistress lets go and gives the go-ahead you quickly devour them.

Standing back up, she lays her hand flat, “Down.” Order filled, she introduces the new order. She turns her palm over and bends her fingers so they are also pointing up, “This is the next one. Up.”

Since it’s the opposite of down you simply sit up and put your curled hands in front of your chest. “Good girl. Down, Up, Down, Up.” She cycles through each order and sign and you follow her flawlessly. “Excellent. Now,” She points to the spot to the right of her, “Here.” The spot is quickly occupied. “Here.” She points to the spot on the opposite side. The order is fulfilled again. “There.” She points away from her to the end of the couch that’s up against the wall. After you trot over there, (with a little added sway to your hips) and sit, the faunus commands you back in front of her. “Good girl! You’re so smart! Good girl!” This time Mistress simply hands you the rest of the packet.

“Ooh! Thank you Mistress!” This time she lets you take it in your hands and watches as you undo the stuck together ones and pop each Gusher in your mouth.

“You really like those huh, Princess?” You nod since your mouth is full. When you eat the last one the faunus takes it from you and kisses your forehead. “Let’s see if you like these next treats.”

“There’s more!?” Your owner laughs while you wag your tail.

“Yes, Princess, there’s more. It’d get boring if all I gave you was Gushers, right?” She goes back to the cabinet where the Gushers were kept and grabs an orange rectangular box with yellow writing on it. She holds it out to you so you can read the name.

“Reese’s Pieces?”

“Ever had these?”

“I’ve had the regular cups before. I like those.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy these.” Mistress pours out one and holds out her palm, “Go on and try it.” It’s a yellow ball, and the smell of peanut butter and chocolate wafts from the open box. It also reminds you a lot of M&Ms chocolates. You eat it from her palm and at the first bite you melt. It’s exactly like the peanut butter cups, how they managed to stuff it into a small package is beyond you but it’s damn delicious. Mistress laughs to herself and pours out a few more, revealing that they come in orange and brown as well.

As you eat them, you can’t help but to wonder if you’ve always had a sweet tooth.

“I’m going to guess you enjoy them.”

“Mhm! Thank you again, Mistress.”

She pets your head and straightens up. “Now, here come the harder tricks. I’ll be telling you what to do this time.”

“Ready!”

“That’s a good Princess.” Mistress looks down, which gets you to look down as well and you see her tapping her toes, “Come here and kiss my feet and work your way up.” There’s no complaint from you when you crawl over and bend down low, sticking your shapely ass in the air and leave little pecks from the tips of the faunus’ toes to the bridge of her foot, and you spend an extra second on her ankles. Her leg is next and you slowly lower your bottom only to press your front more and more into her leg while kissing her shin, calf, the side and back of her knee, and then the kneecap itself. “Keep going.” she murmurs. As the faunus wishes, you stand up straight on your knees to lavish attention on her thigh, not caring about the rough material of the jeans she’s wearing.

Eventually you’re crouching on your feet hanging on to her belt, looking up at her for direction. Mistress places her hand on your head and lightly pushes down until you’re sitting, pressed to her leg, with you never breaking eye contact. “There.” she points a yard away from her, and as you turn you can see her take a deep breath to center herself and beat down the hints of a blush.

You just smile innocently when you face her, knowing full well the extent of your seduction.

The faunus squints her eyes suspiciously, but lets it go and allows you two more treats for your excellent performance. Next, Mistress picks out a large dog from the mountain of stuffed animals and sets it in the middle of the living room. She uses two fingers to point at it and bobs them up and down, “Rut against that.”

Your face goes red, “R-rut?”

Mistress smirks, “Yes. I want to see you desperate. Besides, you didn’t seem to have a problem rubbing yourself on my leg, Princess.”

“T-that’s…!” you give up, there’s no arguing the point even if you were allowed to argue.

The plush dog sits in front of you, almost mockingly. After circling it you decide to turn it over and straddle one of the back legs. A quick glance to Mistress reveals an amused smirk, she motions for you to get on with it and you sigh.

The worst part about this is that you’re still turned on, she hasn’t even done anything to you, but the dull ache in your core persists. It never occurred to you that just _being_ a pet would turn and then _keep_ you on. The fact just frustrates you and you utilize it as fuel to start rocking your hips and grind on the soft material.

You ignore Mistress’ snickering. But then the faunus comes over and bends down watching in close detail. “Come on pup, faster.” She smirks.  Sighing, you rut the leg even harder. “Aw, is the little doggy mad? Don’t make such a face, look like you’re enjoying it.” She orders.

You want to frown even further but you decide to forgo that in place of a little imagination. You pretend that this leg is Mistress’, that if you gave a little more effort then she’d touch you.

Your hips make longer strides and you lean over to plant your hands on the floor and grind harder. By thinking it’s the laughing faunus’ leg, your body reacts by getting wetter, and there’s certainly a wet spot now.

“That’s enough.” Your eyes open and see Mistress’ tail slowly waving back and forth, pleased by your show—which kind of makes you feel better. However, the color fades from your face when she does the same signal but points elsewhere, “Rut on the corner of the couch.” She’s having too much fun with this. Obediently you make your way over to the corner and press yourself up against it, blushing when you notice the small proof of arousal on your panties. At this point you decide you don’t care. If Mistress wants to see a desperate dog then why not? Crouching allows you to put the corner in between your folds and directly on your clit. A nice, smooth motion of the hips and your breath catches. It’s easy to fall into a nice pace, sending little shocks up your body in even intervals, your voice even starts to be audible. At first, little pants and frustrated grunts, then soon little moans and squeaks. Soon, the even pace turns quick and unmitigated, desperate to get more friction on your clit, you grab the corner and roll your hips more, biting down on your lip to attempt to silence your whines.

After a particular loud gasp Mistress orders you to stop. You can feel the redness on your face, no longer from embarrassment but from how turned on you actually got, “Spread your legs,” Mistress says while spreading her hand the middle and ring fingers. You hesitate but do so, exposing your soaked panties, they’re so wet that it’s possible to see the outlines of your pussy. Mistress crouches and pushes on your thighs to open them up further and after keying yourself up so much, even that small touch makes you inhale sharply. “What a good little slut, getting off on even the smallest of things.” You aren’t expecting it when she cups and rubs your core, making you freeze and whimper, her ears perk up and her eyes dilate for a moment before pulling away.

You know that you’re trembling, and that Mistress is enjoying it so much. She licks her lips and continues with the lesson, “One last thing.” She snaps her fingers three times, sharp and loud. It’s possible you’d be able to hear it across the apartment, “When you hear this, it means ‘present yourself’ understand, Princess?”

“Yes, but what does that mean?”

“That you are to get in the position that I’m about to show you. Now sit on your legs and spread them, far.” When you settle into it, she continues, “Lean back on your arms some. Now raise your chin,” the faunus puts a finger under your chin and lifts it high so that your throat is totally vulnerable and the collar completely exposed. You are looking at her from an angle that makes it seem like your eyes are half-lidded and sultry, as if waiting for her to touch you all she wants.

You stay like that while Mistress circles your body, a pensive look on her face and a finger tapping on her chin. “Arch your back a little more. Pull in your arms. Yes, that’s it.” She stops right in front of you and evaluates you once more. “Take off your panties.” You nearly sputter.

Face burning at the thought, you lie down on your back and undo the bottom clasps of your garters to slowly edge the soaked underwear down. For added flair you lift your legs up in the air and finally slip them off, showing off your glistening pussy. Mistress smirks and sits on the couch, legs crossed; she casually shakes the box of treats and gains your attention. She points in front of her, “Here,” You can’t help yourself from walking over there slowly, swinging your hips and tail back and forth, just a bit of playfulness that Mistress appreciates, even expected if that low laugh meant anything.

Mistress snaps three times “Present yourself.” Just like she taught you, you assume the position at once. “Good girl.” She praises. The faunus leans forward and you can see the corners of her mouth raise and her sharper teeth baring themselves. Her tanned hand caresses your cheek before sliding down and idly plays with the collars using her fingers, while her thumb runs up and down the taut and exposed part of your throat, she presses down for all of a second just to hear your surprised, sharp inhale and your chest rise. After getting the reaction she wanted, she continues running her hand down your body.  She caresses the intricate designs of your lingerie and traces the lace; she uses her palm to fully enjoy the feel of the high quality fabric before weighing your breast in her hand, groping for a moment until you quietly whine. Mistress’ predatory grin grows wider and she involves her other hand now, running them up and down your torso, her fingers run a line on your collarbones, prominent due to this position. As the faunus touches you more and watches how red and hot your body gets in response, she starts to speak in a low voice, absolutely entranced by your submission, “It’s important to know every inch of your pet, and to check and make sure she’s healthy. Silky, unmated fur,” She pushed your bangs to the side, “Responsive,” Mistress’ hand brushes your thigh, and even that makes you twitch and gasp, “And ready to be toyed with and fucked.” Her finger lightly circles your entrance, barely touching, but enough to know that it’s there before slowly pushing it in you.

You almost fall down and lose composure with your eyes fluttering shut. But when her thumb strokes your clit, oh the sound that comes out of your mouth is unprecedented and _delicious_. Neither of you or Mistress knew that you could make such a desperate, needy, _pleading_ noise.

Mistress’ feline ears shoot forward in immediate interest and her pupils dilate. She removes her fingers and tastes your need. “And I think you’re _more_ than ready.”  


	3. Teach Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking right up from where we left off in chapter 2, we continue Princess’ training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for waiting patiently! usually my chapters for this fic try not to go over 10,00 words, but because it’s been so long and the premiere of volume three, well I squashed in almost 8,000 more words

Your Mistress amuses herself by looking up and down your trembling body, which is _so_ desperate for attention. She takes one last lick of her fingers coated in your arousal and smirks.

Your face goes red because you can feel some excess cum drip down your thigh from your heat, this only widens her grin, “I wonder if I should just leave you like that…” A whimper makes it out of your throat and you plead with your eyes. She chuckles while leaning down to swipe off the trails of cum on your thighs with her fingers and takes another taste. She laughs to herself, “Pure-bred flavor…I could get addicted to this.” Your hips buck involuntarily in response, hoping that if you look pitiful enough, she might take pity on you and do something about the powerful ache between your legs begging for relief. Mistress tips her head to the side, golden eyes glimmer with mischief. “Do you want me to lick your pussy?”

“Yes! Please Mistress?”

She laughs almost immediately, “Maybe…”

You jump at the chance, “Maybe!?”

“Maybe. I think now is a good time for you have another lesson.” She gets up and pauses to silently make the gesture for ‘down’. You follow orders and wonder what she’s planning.

You listen as Mistress walks out and into the kitchen. The fridge door opens and what sounds like cans are rattled as she finds whatever it is she’s looking for. The fridge shuts and more shuffling, a cabinet opens and shuts, then another. You hear the distinctive sound of plastic crinkling and being ripped open. It had to be a bag of some sort. The mystery bag softly crinkles a few more times before it’s set aside. After a second you hear a pop, then rattling, and the string of sounds end in a prolonged spray. The sweet smell in the air takes a second to identify but when you do, you don’t even bother to hide your smile.

Your eyes follow Mistress when she rounds the corner carrying a paper plate towered high with whipped cream. She shoos you back a little and sits on the couch before placing the plate in front of you, just the sweet smell alone makes you lick your lips. “Want some?” Mistress asks, obviously amused by the look you are giving the plate.

You nod and whine appealingly to Mistress.

She chuckles, “Alright, alright. But start from the very top, and I want to see you extend your tongue all the way, understand? And there are a few treats in there for you.” Your mouth’s watering. “Ready?”

“Ready, Mistress.” Oh you are so ready.

“Don’t go too fast. Now, go ahead.”

You smirk and decide to make this a show; starting off with explicitly licking your lips, noticing Mistress’ amber orbs following your tongue’s path. You extend your tongue and carefully lick the very tip of the mountain, humming at the sweet taste. Mistress’ ear flick forward, but her face stays the same. You work up a slow, but steady pace, working at the tip, and as the conical shape expands, you turn your head this way and that, making diagonal shapes and going in a spiral. At some point, your tongue hits something a little more solid, you prod at it for a second before scooping it up and pulling it into your mouth.

“Mint?”

“Ah, so you found one. It’s an Andes, chocolate and mint.” Mistress says, her face is looking a little red.

You keep going, extending and twisting your tongue until just the bottom layer remains. By now, you’ve gotten quite a few of these Andes things, at the cost of your jaw and your overworked tongue starting to strain. You wonder if this was intended.

Probably, considering who came up with it.

When the plate is almost clean, all that remains is one small rectangle of chocolate waiting to be devoured. Now that you don’t have the whipped cream holding it up, it becomes far harder to slip the treat into your mouth as effortlessly as before. With the very tip of your tongue you flick it until it tips up enough that with quick reflexes, you make it so it lands on your wet muscle and take it into your mouth with a pleased hum.

You pop back up on your legs and wag your tail, showing Mistress all of your hard work. It takes all your strength and restraint to not laugh at Mistress. Her ears are pointed so much forward you wonder if they might fly off, her amber eyes are almost completely black, her bronze skin looks more like roses, and her fangs are digging into her lips. You tilt your head with all the false innocence in the world.

“You certainly had a fun time with that.” Mistress just barely avoids groaning. She leans forward and holds your face in her palm. You happily chirp and move into her touch. She moves down silently and smirks at you, sending heat through your body that pools in the bottom of your stomach. She licks her lips before licking yours, lightly sucking on your bottom lip. Just when you try to deepen the kiss she redirects and tastes some of the stray bits of whipped cream clinging to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to see you between my legs, servicing your Mistress like the good little pup you are.” You nod fervently, your eyes drift downward, but she grabs your jaw and lifts your head forward. “Don’t even think about it, you may be a cute whore, but you still are untrained.”

You whine.

“Impress me. Then maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

“I can’t sway you by begging?” You flutter your eyes.

“Mm, no. But…” You perk up. “I do want to hear your voice.” She stands and gets the leash, hooking you up, “I think it’s time to see how well you deal with a little bit of pain.”

You gulp.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it as slow as we need to.” As she leads you to the playroom, you can’t help but wonder what exactly she has planned. She punches in the long code, and sets it so the door opens freely. You hop in and tug a bit at the leash, wanting her to get inside quicker. “Okay, okay, I’m coming, girl. Now, here.”She pointed in front of her, and you sat there, and held still only as long as it took for her to unhook you before you ran around in a circle. Looking at the playroom from a pet’s perspective, it was less trepidatious embarrassment and more possible fun opportunities.

Mistress passes you, giggling at your enthusiasm. She sits down on the bed and beckons you over. “Hop up in my lap.” You waste no time doing so. She holds you close, and it’s easy to feel the warmth boiled up from your show through her shirt. You have no trouble pressing forward and enjoying the sensation of being chest to chest.

You are slighted by the fact that even with you sitting straight up in her lap, she’s still a bit taller than you.

It must show on your face, because Mistress laughs silently, her shoulders shaking and she lowers her head to your shoulder for a moment. To make it up she kisses you on the cheek and says, “Don’t frown. I like that you’re small.”

Your frown lessens into a pout, “Why?”

“Well because it makes you cuter, and you fit nicely in my lap.” Mistress pulls you closer for emphasis, resting her chin on your head and playing with your hair. “It also means it much easier to manhandle you.” That makes you shiver, much to her amusement.

Deciding to steer away from your obvious wants you pull away to ask, “So how are we going to start with the, uh, pain thing.”

Mistress sees your poor attempt at deflecting but indulges you anyway; after all, there was business to be done.

“Kiss me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Kiss you?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, Mistress.” You don’t see what kissing had to do with it, but if Mistress demanded it of you, then you do it.  

Tipping your head up, your lips meet hers in a gentle way, simply lips moving against each other. You loosely throw your arms around her shoulders pulling her in just a bit, and she reciprocates with adding a little more pressure and speed to the kiss. It’s starting to become heated and Mistress slides her tongue across your lips, wanting permission, you give it to her immediately and let her tongue play with yours. You can’t help the little moan that escape you, just like Mistress can’t help her smirk against your mouth while you quickly breathe before getting back into the kiss. It feels so nice you start to relax and more pleased sounds hum in your throat as Mistress continues.

You gasp a little when Mistress’ hands start to roam and leave goosebumps in their wake. The faunus feels up your waist, fingers splaying out while her thumbs count your ribs. They stop coordinating when one hand sweeps around to your back and drags down your spine. The other runs up your thigh, getting higher and higher on each pass. During an especially high one her thumb flicks and presses on the crease of your thigh and hip, teasing you with the infuriatingly short distance to your unattended core. You can’t stop yourself from whimper at that, rolling your hips to entice her.

Your kisses had steadily become hotter and harder, Blake’s fangs ghosting along your lips as a warning to what danger she can impose. But more and more as she sucks on your lips, they start to become more prominent.

When you moan again, she sinks those patient fangs into your pink lips, making you gasp and tense as she pulls it with her for a second. She starts to pull away, but you quickly follow, not minding when she does it again, but this time just a little harder.

The fingers of the wandering hands start to press on your skin more and more until her knuckles bend and Mistress’ nails trace lines on it softly. You gasp at the sensation but let it be, trying to focus on the kiss that was growing more and more ferocious. A hint of copper is mixing in with the taste of the kiss and Mistress is coaxing more and more sounds out of you.

Before long, she pulls away completely only to nip hard at your earlobe. Your hips roll on instinct and you move your head to the side to grant Mistress more access to the pale plains of your neck. She takes the offer and kisses your jaw line, nipping at random intervals, keeping you on your toes.  Meanwhile her nails have been tracing gentle, unseen lines along the skin before actual pressure is applied. Soon, white trails are written on your skin before turning warm when they turn red.

Infuriatingly smirking lips have been busying themselves by mouthing at your neck, leaving little dotted bruises. It is only when you scrunch Mistress’ shirt and tug her even closer that her fangs get their first taste of flesh. Your mouth drops open and you gasp once more before letting out a small, pleased moan. Your hips are bucking a little harder, tortured by all this foreplay and the warmth of the faunus’ body on your exposed skin has driven your heat to want and weep.

In response, those nails drawing lines in your skin decide to move on to carving. Blood hastily springs just under your skin, turning it nice and pink, and then as Mistress sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone, three things happen all at once. Her claws draw first blood on the sides of your thighs, second, you make a deep protracted moan, and a spike of heat makes your pussy throb almost painfully.

Regretfully, Mistress pulls away and her amber ringed eyes lock onto your equally dilated blue ones. She makes a quick evaluations, noting your heaving chest, new scratches and bruises, and then to your burning center. “Well…this just shows me that you aren’t totally uncomfortable with a little pain.” She says before noting how badly you’re trembling, “Do you want to cum, Princess?”

“Yes!” You sob, “Please, Mistress?”

“Bend over this bed and stay there.” Quickly you hop off her lap and bend over, pressing your face to the comforter. As soon as you get comfortable, Mistress stands and then turns to lightly spank your ass, making you yelp.

You wait with your legs shaking a little in anticipation. There’s the sound of a cloth drawer opening and Mistress rummaging inside. The temptation to look was great but you got the feeling that it would be a bad idea, and you don’t want to ruin your chances of finally getting to cum.

Mistress comes back and stands behind you, when you turn your head to look; she grabs the top of your head and gently redirects it forward, “No peeking.” She teases in a singsong voice. You whine but keep your stare focused on the headboard. “Arch your back, Princess. Good girl.” She indulgently rubs a cheek of your ass, sticking out just like she wants. Mistress rubs, squeezes, pulls and fondles your taut behind, and you try to not let her get wind of the blush on your face.

Though, it’s interesting that she seems to be using only one hand.

Said hand rises and lightly slaps your ass, making you yip. “Good?” She asks.

You nod, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Prepare yourself for a lot more of that. But don’t worry, I’ll let you cum in due time.” You nod excitedly and readjust your legs a tad wider, presenting your ass for whatever she decides to do. “Remember the rule: You must ask before cumming.”

“Yes Mistress, I remember.”

In a lower voice, separate from the mischievous, playful tone she’s used until now she says, “If you ever want to stop, the safe word is ‘coronation’. Repeat that for me.”

“Coronation.” You respond.

“Good girl. Don’t be prideful and not use it, if you’re uncomfortable, say it.”

“Okay.” And with that you wiggle your ass a little more, smiling when you hear the amused snort of air.

Mistress moves your tail out of the way and lays it neatly along your spine, kept there by your arch. She snaps your garters against your skin and you giggle a little, still self satisfied by the fact she can’t keep her hands off of them. Her warm hand caresses your bottom before she delivers a spank that bounces off the walls, yet sounds worse than it really is. You yelp a little but you were prepared. She lands another, then another, she takes a moment to squeeze your ass which gets a surprised squeak out of you before taking advantage of you bring taken off guard and lands a quick one, making you jump and groan.

A finger lazily crawls up your legs before sliding up the inside of your thigh and collecting a bit of the cum that had dripped down it. She uses one hand to spread you and something nudges and slides up and down your slit. Your body shivers in anticipation and you let out a shuddering whine. Mistress chuckles while she finally, takes the rubber dildo she picked and slowly, _slowly_ pushed in.

It makes you gasp and arch even more, and her strong hand keeps your hips from bucking and selfishly taking more of the toy.

Once it’s in all the way, your breath has quickened, and you can’t believe that just that much turned you into this state. But then again, all the teasing and the lesson before ramped you up.

Mistress is still, letting you adjust. After a moment you realize she’s waiting for you, and you signal with a nod of your head resolutely pushed into the comforter.

The faunus decides to keep going with that snail’s pace of hers, pushing it in and out. She laughs to herself when you clench desperately on it, stopping her backward movement just to get a little more out of it. Without warning she roughly slams it back into you, you gasp and your toes curl on the carpet, the sudden rush spiking heat throughout your body. And as the toy is all the way in, you hear whishing wind and then a good slap on your ass.

The tightening from surprise and instinct clamped around the intrusive toy, and your latest gasp had more pleasure than pain in it. Mistress reddens your ass a little more before adding in simultaneous movement of thrusting the length back and forth within you.

As toyed with and denied as you have been, and the torturous slow start she subjected you to had made your pussy desperate and receptive. The sting and heat only added to your pleasure, making you tighten and groan as her pace ramps up.

You whine again, and you can feel yourself nearing the edge, “M-Mistress—ah!—can I cum?” Your face must be even redder than your heated body.

She hums, “No.”

You clench the sheets, she just turned the toy while picking up the pace and it takes all your focus to not cum, “Wh-wha!? But Mistressss!” You aren’t above begging right now. You body feels like it’s going to burst, and your ass is starting to protest the rough treatment, sending two kinds of throbbing throughout your body.

“Twenty more Princess, then I’ll let you cum. Can you do that for me?” After a deep calming breath you nod despite the fact that your shaky legs might give out on you. “Good girl.”

Mistress continues her assault, you thank god she didn’t ask you to count or anything—you really don’t have the spare brainpower to do so.

A millennia passes as your mind and body is strained. And finally, Mistress stops spanking you and relocates to your aching clit rubbing it in tight circles as the toy is thrusted much faster and harder than before, “Cum for me, Princess!”

You scream into the air as the building pressure is released. It rocks your body and forces your nails almost through the blanket as you roughly ball them up, your back arches even sharper than before and your knees give.

In the back of your tired mind register Mistress holding your hips up when your rubbery legs can’t. She comes around and thanks to breathing so hard; her scent of lavender and old books with aged paper and ink washes over you and comforts you a bit. Mistress pries your fingers from the bedding slowly, and when your hands are free she carefully lifts and turns you so you are sitting in between her legs with your back to her front.

Mistress’ steady breath subtly moves you like the crest and trough of a gentle wave, and its calm rhythm soothes yours until it is back to normal. She loosely hugs you and wipes the sweat from your brow, occasionally nuzzling the top of your head.

“You good?” She says quietly.

“Yeah…”

“Is it okay if I lay you down? I’ll be right back.” You squint in confusion but nod anyhow, curious as to where she was going. She places you on a pillow she snatched from the pile at the headboard and slips out from under you like a shadow. She goes over to the chest at the adjacent wall and retrieves a white face rag.

Like she said, her absence is quick and she’s back on the bed with a lightly damp rag. She gently dabs it at your brow and wipes off your neck. The cool water is a godsend right now, making your already limp body one step closer to melting into a puddle. She tends to you carefully yet thoroughly, making sure to completely cool off your body and get off any sweat. And by thoroughly, you mean that after your body is tended to, Mistress lifts your legs and carefully dabs at your rosy ass, giving it much needing t.l.c for the burning. She also makes sure to wipe your inner legs and the whole of your pussy of the cum that was starting to become uncomfortably sticky to your oversensitive body.

When Mistress is satisfied with her work, she pets you, “Hungry?”

“Yes, please.” The strong faunus picks you up and slowly deposits you into the black and red pet bed to the side. You relax and nuzzle the soft fabric of the bed before curling up and becoming completely comfortable. You’re actually starting to appreciate your small size right now.

When Mistress returns she’s carrying a bowl of fruit salad, some napkins, and a fork and a water bottle. “Here you go.” She places the bottle to the outside of your bed, “I want you to remember that when I give you a water bottle, always use your hands to drink it.” She smiles and lifts and eyebrow as she sees you inelegantly stuffing the bowl in your mouth. You pause, look at the bowl, look at her and then back before lowering it and licking your lips, nervously laughing.  “Slow down, puppy.” Mistress gently takes the bowl from you and wipes off your face with the napkins. Then she spears a few brightly colored fruits on the fork. “Say ‘ahh’” You really are too old for childish things such as these but you follow her orders and let her slowly spoon feed you.

When you’re taking a few swigs from the water bottle, you remember what she said about them before, “So…this is aftercare?”

“Yep.” Mistress scratches behind your ears and smiles when that gets a pleased hum from you.

“…I like it.” You blush. Being taken care of and pampered is a natural expectation as a rich heiress to a multi-billion lien company. You’ve had maids and nannies baby you and feed you. You’ve been dressed without even having to move your arms besides to fit them through sleeves, your hair was brushed for everyday life and especially for parties. After realizing you didn’t even know how to tie your own shoes until you were eight, you started to despise the intrusive hands and delicate handling. When you noticed how scared the wait staff looked when they came near you, fearing that the tiniest slight could get them fired, you waved them all off except one to _teach_ you instead of _handle_ you.

But this? It was hard and confusing to explain. Mistress spoon fed you and hasn’t let you so much as even walk, but you don’t mind. As tanned fingers carefully comb through your prided hair, gently taking any knots out, you start to realize that maybe because it feels much more personal. She looked at you lovingly, not with fear in her eyes or disconnected because you’re just a job to her.

You lean into the faunus’ gentle touch and sigh contently. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Not for right now.”

“Okay. When we do something more intense than that, then you tell me if there’s anything else you need.” You nod and take another sip of water, feeling a tad better than before, guess you really were dehydrated. But then again, you had been pretty much leaking since you started.

“How’d you feel about the spanking?”

Your butt doesn’t hurt anymore past the occasional throb, “I don’t mind. You were going easy on me though, weren’t you?”

“Of course. Unless you _really_ want me to break your ass?” Mistress smirks and you blush.

“N-no, that was fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind under the ‘pleasurable’ column. But we’ll find your boundaries soon. Tomorrow. I think this has been enough pain play for today. We’ll see how you respond to tools, and then I’ll train you on something involving that.”

“Like what?”

Mistress smiles at you, but you feel more disconcerted and fearful than usual. “You move too much.”

…You decide to leave that alone for now.

“For right now it’s time for dinner.” It’s already that late?

Mistress clips you to the leash and slowly lets you crawl out. The throbbing in your ass may be gone, but your legs still feel a little shaky. Once you get to the kitchen, she sets you free and sets about getting the necessary ingredients to cook dinner. You wait patiently in the far corner where your silver pet dishes are. Mistress has put them on a collapsible shelf to elevate the bowls, making it so gravity doesn’t work against you when trying to eat.

There isn’t anything in the food bowl, but there’s some cool water in the other bowl.

With careful movements, you experimentally lap it up. It isn’t the best way to drink, but you manage to scoop a bit of water into your mouth. You’ll get better with practice, and you have a whole week to do that.

Wait.

Is this…?

Yep. This is imported Atlas water melted and purified from the abundant ice and glaciers. You chuckle to yourself; figures she’d get you something like this.

Oh well. Only the best should be given to a Princess.

“Princess.” You turn at the sound of your name. “I won’t make you stand right now, but listen; this is an easy enough dish.” She moves around the kitchen, pointing out things and going through prep. She’s obviously bought some new kitchen stuffs, like the new spoon shaped colander with a long handle sitting comfortably over some boiling water steaming the broccoli the tool held. In another boiling pot was some simple boil-in-a-bag instant rice, a one step set up is something you can appreciate. And finally some oven-baked tilapia set in butter and seasoned with thyme, garlic powder, Creole seasoning and some blackened hickory salt. With a squeeze of two slices of lemons over the fish, dinner was served.

Mistress dipped down and collected your waiting food bowl whilst kissing your forehead. “Since it’s your first day, you can sit at the table.” Immediately the seat across Mistress’ spot is filled. She shakes her head amusedly and sets about plating the food. When she sets it in front of you, you say thank you like a good puppy.

Your bowl has a base of rice at the bottom with the broccoli and well cut strips of fish on top of it. The food’s still steaming hot but Mistress allows you to use your aura and cool it down.

Eating is…well, you didn’t expect it to be neat. You manage to keep most of it out of your hair as you dive in face first. The larger strips of delicious fish are easy to eat, so is the broccoli. But the rice, well…your tongue started to ache again.

Mistress manages to keep a mostly straight face as she wipes off your chin and cheeks, covered in the white grain.

You frown deeply.

Then when she’s satisfied with that she shoos you to the living room while she deals with the dishes.  

Afterward, your first day ended nicely. You cuddled with Mistress a little more and then she gave you a five star treatment in the bath, even doing your hair for you. She seems to be keen on keeping it as nice as you do normally; in fact you think she’s even stricter. Her brushing is soft and paced, gradually making you sleepier as she finishes up.

You stretch, naked and clean and hop into your pet bed, easily finding a nice position and kissing Mistress goodnight when she covers you with a blanket and then gets into the larger human bed.

* * *

 

There. The last page. The morning sun shines on the leftover paperwork you have just finished. You’re happy to have that out of the way, but now you’re left with a question…

What are you going to do today?

Earlier this morning when you woke, Mistress had been awake for a little and made coffee. She had to leave early to get to her apartment and change for her shift at Ozcapades. You lazed around for an hour or so before resigning yourself to getting the last bits of work done. Mistress had told you to take off the ears while you did so, saying something about association.

Now you happily replace your ears—you’re feeling like a kitty today—and go to your room. You rummage through your drawers to pick out a lovely ensemble to wear for Mistress when she gets home. Since you aren’t wearing a tail plug, going for a T-string like the other day sounds like a good option.

Through a range of types and colors you decided on wearing a set of baby blue lingerie set with a chinatera style t-string thong. The asymmetrical set up made it so one side instead of fabric, had two ribbons that joined as one with two bows along it when it went to the back, and the tiny triangle of fabric had a bigger bow at the top. Then, you pull on a white lace garterbelt, hook on baby blue straps to keep the theme going, and then slip into one of the paw footed stockings Mistress got you yesterday. Finally, you buckle some velvet lined leather cuffs to your wrists and ankles in the same soft shade of blue.

After a moment of checking yourself out in the mirror, you notice that your current ensemble won’t go with the silver tail that mistress had gotten you yesterday.  You wonder where she put the others, seeing as they weren’t in the footlocker when you went to pick out your current white collar.

You look around your room to make sure, and not finding anything except your silver tail lying by your pet bed, left there from disrobing to take a shower this morning. Considering that Mistress thought far enough ahead to get you several colors of stockings, she knows that you like to match, so getting only one tail, for training purposes or not, wouldn’t fly with you.

While you stood there and tapped your chin in thought, apparently, more time had passed than you thought, because there’s a knock at the door, “Hey, it’s me!” Mistress’ half day is over already? Moving quickly, you cover yourself with your white silk robe with a hem that ended tantalizingly mid thigh.

You reach the door and cautiously crack it open, the faunus on the other side grins at you. Seeing no one else in the hallway you step back and let her enter, then lock the door like you always do.

A warm body presses up against yours, and pins you to the door. A set of mischievous fangs nip at your ear and make you shiver, you can feel the fangs stretch into a grin. “My, my, you’re looking delicious.” Mistress’ hands rub and grope at the new stockings before sliding up; she plays with the garter straps for a moment before going further, dragging up the robe. You inhale sharply as the silk is slid against your body and her nails press into your skin, not hard enough to leave a line, but definitely enough to send shivers up your spine. Surprisingly Mistress doesn’t dip under the thin cloth, but keeps on the outside, embracing your figure until just below your bustline. “How was your day, Princess?” Mistress asks casually, like she isn’t playing with the buckles of your wrist cuffs or palming your ass.

“Boring. I did finish my work from yesterday, but otherwise played with my prey or I lazed around all day.”

“Did you eat?” Mistress kisses the back of your neck.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Oh? What did you have today?”

“The fruit salad for breakfast, and the snack wraps you made me.” You grind against her hips, unable to withstand the wonderful feeling of her caresses.

“Good girl.” Mistress kisses your jaw, “Did you get all dolled up for me?”

“Yes, Mistress.” You say a little breathlessly.

“Show me.” The faunus pulls away, and you gather yourself before turning around and undoing the knot of the robe’s sash. With a simple shrug the loose silk falls victim to gravity and floats down revealing every inch of skin not covered by sheer, decorative underwear.

Mistress’ tail unwraps from her waist and stands nearly straight up in the air. Amber orbs ravage you with their gaze, and a long pink tongue wets her lips, “I’m not sure whether to call you a good girl for such good choices, or…” she pulls you close until you’re pressed to her front and her hand pulls lightly at the bows, “…call you a bad girl for being so tempting.”

Your throat is suddenly dry.

You pull away only slightly to look at her, “Mistress, I was looking for a kitty tail for today, but all I could find was the wolf one from yesterday. Is that the only one you bought?”

Mistress holds your cheek and smirks, “I bought more. They’re with all your other pretty outfits in the playroom closet.” Oh. Why didn’t you think of that? “Go get one and meet me in the living room, Mistress had a long day.”

You reluctantly pull away with a soft kiss to the faunus’ lips and quickly go to the secured door, punch in the code, and rush to the closet. Like Mistress said, hanging on the coat hooks in the back of the spacious closet, is a collection of different tails. It doesn’t take you long to pick a fluffy white Maine coon tail. You put it on and playfully wiggle your ass so you feel it sway back and forth and brush your calves.

After you exit and get within a few feet of the couch you crouch down onto all fours and move so you’re sitting beside Mistress’ outstretched legs. She does look a bit exhausted. You gently butt your head against her knee to grab her attention. Mistress reaches out and holds your face in her hand, brushing her thumb over your cheek before petting you on the head a few times.

Mistress sighs and pats her legs, inviting you onto her lap. You happily accept and let her move you into a comfortable position for her. By the time the faunus is done, you have your head lying back, resting on her shoulder and her arms wrapped your midriff. Mistress kisses your temple and you can feel her body melt from her previous stiffness.

“Something happen, Mistress?”

“Had a few ‘rude’ customers. Called me all sorts of things but they still wanted to grab my ass.” You frown and nuzzle her chin. Lately you’ve been thinking more and more about how Faunus are regarded in the workplace, especially when ‘rude’ was Mistress’ nice way of saying ‘racist dicks’.

“Did you do anything?”

“Nearly crushed the grabby one’s wrist when he went for it. I did my job and made sure he got what he needed though. No one needs him to procreate.” You giggle and kiss her cheek to show your sympathy. “Another guy thought he could do my job better than me, he also apparently has no mind for measurements. He couldn’t get anything’s name right, and he got one of our bigger plugs, claiming ‘it was a good start’. Well whatever, it’s his ass, not mine. He can’t complain since he brought it on himself. He didn’t even want lube, claiming ‘I don’t know why you guys have car stuff here, is it too much to ask for some olive oil?’ dumbass.”

She sighed and started to slowly rub your belly up and down, nuzzling when you sigh contently. Her touches were light, ghosting across your skin and making you arch into her palms.

“Also, Ozpin offered me a promotion.”

“H-he did?” You whimper when Mistress unclasps your bra and pulls it off, giving her unhindered access to your modest bust. Her tanned hands stood out on your pale skin, and you can’t help but watch as the faunus’ expert touch coaxes your pink nipples to harden, setting them up to be lightly pinched.

“Yeah, he said he was expanding the company and had the perfect position for me, especially since I wouldn’t have to deal with anymore assholes like today.” Mistress uses her thumb to circle the top of your nipple, her soft touch doing more for you than you ever expected. It was like your body had to compensate by becoming even more sensitive, meaning every little touch was starting to draw out little whimpers from you. “Apparently he’s getting into the sex toy business, wanting to create ‘unique’ products. It makes me worry what that means, but he said he already had a few products almost complete. I’m not sure how he got the time and funds to build a business like that, but it turns out that he even has a building set up. You know the new construction that’s almost finished on Vale Avenue?”

You nod but you’re only half paying attention since you’re busy squirming in her lap, whimpering as she pinches and pulls lightly on your pink peaks, sending electricity down to your heated core. Mistress starts to leave butterfly kisses on your neck, knowing how sensitive you are there.

“I’m thinking about taking it. Plus, it’s closer to here so I can spend more time playing with this slutty body of yours.” Mistress bites the shell of your ear while slipping a hand between your closed thighs and cupping your center through the thin fabric. You make a choked moan and buck against her still hand. She chuckles, “You sound so good. I feel better already.” A finger flicks and rubs the peak of your breasts while a single finger rubbed up and down your covered slit, making you increasingly aware of how wet you are. “So cute. Just what I needed after today. Small enough to fit perfectly in my lap,  perfect handfuls worth of breasts, perfect skin, perfect sounds, and you respond so perfectly it makes me want to tease my perfect Princess even more.” You whimper at that.

Suddenly she stops all activity and just hugs you, much to your chagrin. “Mistress…why’d you stop?” you pathetically whine.

“Because Princess, we have lessons to get to. And besides, I think it’d be best if you’re a little warmed up.” Mistress laughs when you squirm and picks you up easily. Both of you enter the playroom where she places you on the bed and goes to the mounted board behind the headboard where various spanking implements lay. Mistress hums and taps her chin in thought, “Hmm, which one do you want to start with, Princess?”

A bad feeling sits in your gut at the word ‘start’.

You get up and get permission to stand as you inspect each tool. After a moment’s consideration you pick the one with a black handle and several leather strips coming out of it.

Mistress’ eyebrows almost hit the ceiling, “A flogger? You want to start with that?”

“It’s not a big deal.” You huff, but when she gives you a confused look you wave the thing around, “It’s a leather pom-pom for god’s sake!”

…  
…  
…the silence is rather disconcerting.

Finally Mistress laughs so hard she bends over and holds on to the headboard for support. Frowning at her only makes her hysterical.

“What!?”

“ _A ‘leather pom-pom’!?_ ”

She continues like this for a minute more before holding out her hand. After giving the flogger to Mistress she stands up straight, puts her hand through the rope wrist strap, and slowly starts to rotate the tool in a figure eight. “There’s something of an unwritten scale of intensity for each spanking tool. And floggers…well they tend to be at the higher end of things.”

“Then why’d you ask which one I wanted to start with?”

“Curious.” This whole time she’s been lazily swinging the flogger. Obviously you know how floggers were originally used, but this one had shorter tails and it obviously had to be softer for recreational use.

…Right?

“Hold out your arm, Princess.” When you do, she lightly slaps your arm with the spanking implement’s tails without changing the speed at all.

To say you weren’t prepared for it would be an understatement.

You can’t believe that even that speed made the tails hit you hard enough to leave a stinging, burning pain that throbs every two seconds. You further express your disbelief in a few creative swears, and at least two of them were in German.

As you sit on your knees and hiss through your teeth, Mistress bends down and gently takes your reddened arm, she kisses your cheek and puts a hand over the bright red patch of pain. Soon, the sensation of cool aura passes over your skin like smoke on your arm. Mistress’ calm, stable aura alleviates you of any pain. “You okay?”

“Let’s put that under ‘too much’ for right now.”

The faunus makes a humming laugh and kisses your forehead, “I tried to tell you.” Mistress stands up and pats you on the head before picking out a few tools. She grabs a wooden paddle, the yardstick, and a riding crop and then motions for you to follow her.

Surprise, surprise, Mistress leads you to the spanking bench. Well, it is fitting for the situation. She unloads her cargo on the chest and unbuckles the dark leather straps and tells you to stand. When you reach your full height the faunus quickly undoes your garters and pulls the garterbelt down, “I want to make sure I have a clean shot.”

Mistress waves you in with an unfettered smirk, letting you get comfortable on the cushy red supports and the long bench. Meanwhile, the faunus spreads out the spanking tools in a neater manner than just a pile on the long chest. It’s only a minute later when you are properly strapped in by her and she expertly adjusted the bench so your legs are spread open.

“First we’re going to do a few warm up shots. Bringing a little blood down to your cheeks will help cushion it somewhat.”

“That sounds fake.” You say, but the only answer you get is a spank on your right cheek. She gives light shots to each side, keeping it even. It’s when you hear a chuckle that you try to look back. Just then, she spanks your core with utmost precision and heat flows throughout your body. You squeak before moaning with a little shiver.

“Like that, Princess?” You nod and arch your ass up, letting her spank you directly on your pussy three more times, earning a moan for each strike. You’re breathing a little harder when she stops and gropes your ass. “There we go; a nice shade of pink.” From the right side, Mistress strolls over and grabs the paddle. She comes to the front of the bench and shows it to you. “First level of spanking tools is first and foremost the hand, as you found out yesterday. This…” She turns it in the air to show off both sides, “Is the next step up. We’re going to do 30 spanks with each toy okay?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. I’ll give you breaks in between so your ass isn’t too red. Do you remember the safe word?”

“Coronation.”

Mistress pats you on the head, “Good girl.” She disappears behind you and places the paddle up against your skin. “We’ll start light, but expect it to hurt more and more.” You hum an affirmative and wiggle your ass, letting Mistress know you’re ready.

The paddle leaves before it reacquaints itself with your backside. Obviously it hurts, but it’s really different compared to Mistress’ hand. For one, it covers a lot more area. Plus it’s—for lack of a better word—blunt. The flat wood has no give, but no elasticity to make it sting like skin does.

Mistress pauses, watching for any reaction beyond a low yelp, when you present your bottom for the paddle again she returns to tenderizing your ass. As the paddling goes on, there’s shorter and shorter intervals of time between each strike, and the pain increases two fold. One kind is Mistress putting more force into each spank, and the other’s your reddened skin becoming more and more sensitive as the spanks pile up. Mistress localizes her strikes to the fleshy part of your firm backside, a little to the side of them, a downward smack on them, and intermittently, a controlled hit at the thin area between your ass and where your upper thigh begin. That made you jump and yell a little louder. But overall, the pain is manageable. Hurts like bitch, but nothing to use your safe word over.

Spank number 30 comes up and both you and Mistress take a deep breath of relief, you for the obvious, and her from spanking. The paddle was a little more solid and weighty than most would initially realize.

Mistress lightly gropes your ass and you whine and shy away from the touch, “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh. I can’t tell if the cold air helps or hurts, though.” The faunus chuckles and puts the paddle down before you feel both hands very lightly hold your bottom, it was so light in fact, you though that it was closer to hovering. Slowly she transmits aura and starts to dull the pain before erasing it all together. Meanwhile, you try to relax each limb and work the stiffness out of your shoulders, “Hey Mistress?”

“Hm?”

“Wouldn’t it be faster to let me use my aura?”

“Well, it would, but then it would defeat the purpose. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of you, you don’t need worry. Although, if the situation calls for it, I’ll let you use your aura.”

“What sort of situation?” She doesn’t really answer, but she does mutter something. It sounds like ‘Ni’-something. You don’t really get it, but it’s best to just leave it alone.

After your ass is properly healed and ready to be punished again, Mistress gets a water bottle and makes you take a few sips by placing it to your mouth. She disappears behind you for a second before you feel a warm hand cup and rub your center; you seem to be a little more soaked than previously. Mistress spends a few seconds circling your clit until she gets a loud whimper from you, “Hm, you seem to be enjoying it a little.” You nod. Spanking isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, but there’s certainly a charm to it that your body is definitely responding to. Next, the faunus spanks you lightly to get your ass warmed up again for more punishment, then she moves on and replaces the paddle in favor of the yardstick. As the name Implies, she has a much better range with this, exchanging width for length. It’s enough so that you can catch a bit of her in your peripheral even while looking straight ahead.

“Ready, Princess?” You nod and present your bottom, unafraid of the still measuring tool sitting threateningly across both your cheeks, unlike the short paddle’s single side coverage. Your ass feels fresh air once more before the stick splits right through it and burns a blunt line across both sides.

The hit makes you groan and clench your hands. It’s sort of like a concentrated paddle, only stretched out to give it a longer reach, making it like a double smack in a sense. Especially when Mistress swings it fast enough that the wood bends, hitting on cheek milliseconds before the other gets its share. The sensation is still flat and blunt, but it definitely has a sting similar to a sharp aftertaste of a sour drink. This time you know the cold air doesn’t help, that brings out the sting faster. Additionally, the speed at which Mistress is going makes a breeze of its own, coming down and irritating several of the red lines building up on your once pale skin.

This time, Mistress aims a few smacks to your upper thighs, it isn’t as intense as the ones falling on your ass, but it throws you off guard and makes your legs shake as they try to deal with sensation.

Mistress ends this set with a perfectly placed lash that hits the crease of your ass and thigh, _and_ across your pussy. The shock causes your body to arch and twist, the moan coming out of your mouth is more drawn out that before and you force your face into the body of the spanking bench.

The air is filled with the sound of your quickened pants. Mistress is silent this time, remaining silent as she traces a line caused by the yardstick. The faunus comes around and brushes your cheek and the hints of tears that had built up.

“Hey…do you mind if I take a picture with the special scroll?”

Huh? “W-why?”

“The marks I made look so pretty I want to have something to remember them by.”

While you think it over, she patiently pets your head and remains quiet. Which is good because you don’t know what to make of this, really. Of course you’re deeply embarrassed, but also kind of flattered? You usually shy away from cameras, but this _is_ Mistress after all, and it is on a secure scroll.

Not to mention the thought of Mistress using the pictures to help please herself…

“O-okay.”

Her eyes light up, but she keeps an otherwise calm face, “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“It’s okay, Mistress, really…just show me the pics when you’re done?”

“Of course, _baby girl_.” You blush furiously at the new nickname and the faunus chuckles before leaving a soft kiss on your lips and exiting the room to grab the secure scroll.

Hardly a few seconds later, Mistress returns. You can hear the scroll open and a few beeps as she sets up the camera. Then you wait and blush so hard you might overheat as each faint click goes off. When they stop you start to relax…until you feel your thong being tugged halfway down your thighs.

Mistress holds your lips apart and takes some ‘up close and personal’ pictures. “Such a pretty girl. A pretty, beautiful slut. Do you know how wet you are back here?” You shake your head, “I wonder if the spanking caused this…or the idea of me taking photos of you?” You’re halfway through a high-pitched whine when it turns into a shocked cry of ecstasy. Maybe voyeurism is a kink Mistress has because she decides to award you with a handful of excited licks with that rough tongue gliding through your glistening folds. You arch into the faunus’ attentions and moan loudly, your hands grip the cushions in a death grip and you swear the world blurred for a moment.

Unfortunately, Mistress pulls away, leaving your heated body shivering and weak. She even has the nerve to ignore your glare when she turns the corner and licks her lips.

Mistress taps the screen and the new pictures are displayed, she shows you them one by one, taking her time before flicking her thumb to go to the next one.

You can kind of understand her excitement…if you didn’t know that that was your beaten ass on the screen, or your pussy that’s so wet there’s still thick strings of cum connecting it to your meager lingerie…

Well, in all honesty you would’ve fucked yourself to these pictures without a second thought.

“Ah…I…mm…that’s very…” Mistress chuckles as you sputter, growing closer and closer to a tomato with every inarticulate syllable.

“You are so adorable, Princess. You really, really are. Look at you getting all hot and bothered to a picture of your own pussy.” Mistress playfully pinches your cheeks before closing the scroll. She goes though the process of healing and preparing your ass for another round, noticeably humming a little tune and ‘accidently’ brushing her thumb near your lower lips.

What’d you do to get such a perverted _tease_ as a Mistress?

Something really good apparently.

The scroll and yardstick are put on the large chest and Mistress grabs the riding crop. She experimentally slaps the loose end—the keeper if you recall from your research—into her hand, gauging the (obviously high) quality of the leather. Mistress walks to you and angles your head up with the crop. “This will be most likely the only thing I’ll use on other parts of your body, unless you think you can take a whip?” You mouth flaps silently, unsure of how to answer. Mistress laughs and moves along.

You can feel her drag the crop up and down your body, as if she were painting the skin with primer to make it be more beautiful when she adds the red. “Keep in mind, there are certain places, one should never hit.” She touches each part as she circles the bench. “Your sides, because you can do damage to organs if you hit too hard, the coccyx, the hipbones, neck, collar and the tail bone. However, most everywhere else is fair game. Some people even like to have their breasts flogged.”

You are _damn_ sure you aren’t one of those people.

“Ready?”

You nod and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. The keeper left your ass, and then ran back into it. You jumped and hissed; the leather gave the crop elasticity for an extra ‘oomph’ to the strike. Add in the fact that it was a sharp, concentrated feeling, working with little surface area, but whether it was due to Mistress or just how it was designed, it didn’t hurt too much worse than the yardstick.

Still stung like a royal bitch.

“With riding crops, there are a few ways to use them.” _Smack_ “I prefer the ends for corrective measures” _Smack_ “And general use. However, with some crops, especially…” _Smack. Slap._ “Nice quality ones such as this, the shaft can be used,” Mistress explained as she made a diagonal strike across your ass. That was quite the solid hit, and it bumped you forward a few inches on the bench which was slowly becoming sweatier from her efforts. “But that’s closer to caning.” _Slap_ “And I don’t think you have the fortitude for that. Never mind the bruises.”

Mistress decided to switch it up on you and slapped each of you upper thighs with the keeper, then landing a few more on your ass before smacking you on the calf. Your foot jumped in reflex and pulled against the buckle, before Mistress delivered a strike on the flat of your foot. You made a confused grunt, it was nowhere near as sensitive as your cheek but the sensation tingled and made your knee jerk forward. Then she returned to aiming for your bottom.

“Shhh,” Mistress shushed you calming your cries, or maybe frightening them down as the leather ends gently slid down the middle of your back, making you shiver. She came around and lifted your chin with the crop’s shaft, “Just a few more, Princess.” The faunus smiled—with just bit too much teeth—and playfully patted your chin with the end, warm from all the impacts on your taut ass.

Your hands gripped the top of the cushions and you tried to control your breathing in between every grunt and whimper. You only relinquished your grip when just before Mistress was supposed to make the last strike, however, she paused and slipped the keeper under you and massaged your center. Your hips stuttered up and bucked backwards, and then Mistress made you gasp when she softly tapped your slit over and over. She followed your movements so when you tried to move away from it left, right, or up, you couldn’t escape it and the light shocks that started to build up in your stomach, you couldn’t escape the fact that you were starting to get even wetter. The idea that there might be a wet stain on the bench made your face go red.

The teasing crop left your slit, but only for a moment. Mistress lined up, and with preternatural precision struck you right on the clit.

Everything turns white for a scant second before you let out a long choked groan and fight against the restraints to reflexively curl up. At the very least, she didn’t spank your clit too hard, so it wasn’t so bad, but wow…that felt like it pierced through you in a…not-totally-unpleasant way.

Mistress walks in front of you and lifts your head up so you can look at her—and her tongue licking away at the dampened end like it was a lollipop. “Such a good girl. A very, very good girl.” Mistress leaned down and gave you a deep kiss, letting the taste of your arousal linger on your tongue. “Wait here and I’ll get you out. I also have something for you.”

As Mistress worked, you let your body go slack and tried to not focus too much on the throbbing coming from your rear end. You sighed when the straps came free and let your sweaty joints breathe the cool air.

You blushed a bit when you saw the smiling faunus take a few quick pictures before she pocketed the scroll.

Mistress went to the cubed wall and fetched a med-kit from one of the newly designated aftercare drawers. She opened the white case and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for: a small white tub.

Mistress walks back to you while she screwed off the top, “This is an anti-bruising cream, aura’s good and all, but I like to be thorough. It helps heal bruises, repairs the skin and reduces swelling.” Mistress scooped out a sizeable amount, put the container down and rubbed it between her hands to warm it up, and then she gently started to apply the topical solution. It felt good and relaxing, plus you could sense a slow stream of aura radiating from her fingertips as she worked it in. Mistress soothed your pummeled bottom and calmed your upper thighs with it, making sure she got every place she struck repeatedly.

When Mistress was satisfied with her work, she wrapped her arms around you and slowly lifted you off the now sweaty and sticky bench and lets your thong fall to the ground. Like yesterday, she lowered you into the black and red pet bed to rest while she cleaned up. “Here’s your treat.” She said when she went and came back from the chest. In her hands was a familiar silver packet that instantly perked up your mood.

You watched as Mistress went to wash her hands and dampen a hand towel, then come into the room and wiped down everything—including the spank bench—and put all the tools back in their proper places.

The faunus sighed and sat down next to you petting your head as you finished off the last of the Gushers. “Have fun?”

“Well…I don’t know about ‘fun’…but I didn’t totally dislike it…”

She smirked, “I could tell.” Her eyes glanced down and you blushed furiously. “When you’re ready Princess, we’ll move to the next lesson. There’ll be no impact play, in fact, the only thing you’ll need to do is sit there and look cute.”

“What’ll we be doing, Mistress?”

She grinned widely, “Shibari.”

“S-shibari?”

“I’m going to tie you up like a pretty little present, baby girl.”

_Oh…_

After you both grab a snack and you manage to stop your face from burning, Mistress sits you on the bed while she goes to the cube wall and digs up the tools needed.

Somehow you manage to keep yourself calm when she sits down in front of you with three lengths of rope, each are solidly colored white, black, and blue, safety shears, and a thin paperback book titled ‘Shibari for beginners’.

You assume the ‘beginners’ part refers more to you than the calm faunus in front of you.

You critically regard the ropes, squinting at them in caution, “Will this…be uncomfortable? You are tying me up with rope.”

Mistress unfurls the white rope some and holds it out taut for you, “Go ahead and feel.” You reach out and experimentally drag your finger along the rope. Your eyebrows lift in surprise at how soft the rope actually is. “It’s made of special materials but is every bit as strong as regular hemp rope. Now, shake.” You are almost caught off guard, but you immediately put your hand in hers. Mistress quickly unbuckles your cuff, and then holds her hand out for your other hand to do the same. “Good girl, now hold your wrists out, pressed together.” Mistress takes a good look at your joined joints, and metes out a rope length about twice the diameter of your wrists. She folds the white rope in half and makes a loop at one end and then slowly wraps your wrists, softly explaining the tie as she does so. Barely ten seconds later, your wrists are firmly tied together, and it looks…rather pretty on you. Mistress tests the bonds by slipping two fingers between the rope and your skin, making sure there’s no chance of circulation being cut off.

“Huh, this isn’t so bad.” You say, trying and failing to pull your wrists apart in curiosity. You also rotate them within the binds, and while there’s a touch of heat, the friction is near non-existent.

“Glad you think so. Now we’re going to do a favorite tie of mine—the frog tie.” She tells you to turn to the side, lie down and bend your knee. She takes the long black rope, cuts it in half, and folds the rope like before to find the middle. Mistress starts neatly wrapping your thigh to your shin, then after a few loops she ties the rope in a tight knot in the scant space in between your thigh and calf, keeping your limb firmly in place. Mistress then instructs you onto your other side and repeats the process.

When you rock yourself onto your knees, you definitely feel restricted. You can already tell there’s no way to fight your way out of these bonds.

Mistress retrieves the scroll from her pocket and takes some shots. “Pretty…Now, do you want to try walking around in them?” Mistress asks.

“Walking around?” Mistress nods and lifts you off the bed and puts you on the floor in a kneeling position. She quickly grabs your leash and clips it onto the collar, and with a light tug, she directs you forward.

With everything tied like it is, you either directly walk on your knees or shuffle forward on the balls of your foot while using your restrained hands for balance.

It’s embarrassing to say the least.

After awkwardly squirming to the opposite end of the room and back, Mistress seems to have gotten her quiet laughs in and she lifts you effortlessly and puts you back on the soft, soft bed. Your knees thank her for it.

“Besides your knees,” You frown, “How did it feel?”

“Restricting.” She raises an eyebrow in warning, “I mean, well, I don’t feel any rope burn or anything.”

She accepts this sass-less answer, “Good, so not too scratchy? Not too tight? Not uncomfortable?”

“No it’s fine.”

“Excellent.” She pats your head, “Now that you’re used to it, let’s get a little more advanced.”

You aren’t sure you like that gleam in her eye just now.

“A-advanced?”

Mistress’ face breaks out in a huge Cheshire cat grin, “We’re going to do a full body diamond tie.” She starts by undoing the rope on your wrists and legs. The faunus takes the smooth blue rope and stretches out all of it before folding it in half like previously.

However, in this instance, Mistress found the middle and put it around your neck so the rest of the rope dangled in front of your chest. With that set up, she opens the book to the appropriate page, this one reading ‘Angel Back Harness’.  There are a bunch of pictures of bodies with ropes on them and arrows pointing in one direction or another. Each picture comes with large chunks of text next to it. Mistress’ gold eyes scanned the first few steps before putting the book to the side and getting to work.

You watch and follow Mistress’ monosyllabic orders as she focused. She twists, pulls, threads and knots. She orders your arms up and down or asks you to turn this way and that, and she occasionally stands up so she could see from the back.

Mistress keeps referring to the pictures in the book, looking to the side before looking back, confirming, and then reading what to do next. After about step eight she rubs her neck and cracks it to get rid of whatever kink she had in it. The faunus mutters in discomfort before frowning to see that stopping had caused her to lose a knot, she growls before looking at the book, her fingers, and then your face. The pattern was repeated before her eyes finally stopped roaming and she picks up the book, “Say ‘ahh’, Princess.”

You blink in confusion before opening your mouth. Mistress gently places the thin book in your mouth and orders you to close it. She only moved her eyes as she glances between the tasteless pages and her hands before nodding in approval. “Good girl, now be a good bookstand and stay still.”

There’s a comfortable silence for the last few minutes as Mistress finishes up the tie, smirking when she threads the rope between your legs and how you whimpered whenever she—enthusiastically—tightened a knot as the vibration traveled down to your clit. To add more ‘fun’ she tied a large knot brushing against your clit. Mistress orders your hands behind your back, with your elbows in your palms, and ties the last of the rope around your arms.

She takes the book out of your mouth, and laughs as you stick your tongue out. That book tastes really nasty after a bit. “How does it feel?” She asks, silently going over her work with her eyes. All you can give her is a whimper because even the slightest movement causes the large knot to rub you, and the tight rope placed perfectly in between your folds just brings more blood to your face. The faunus, tilts her head this way and that before nodding and taking even more pictures of the art she tied onto your body. After pocketing the scroll once more, Mistress chuckles and comes closer to slip a single finger under the rope and pull, making the knot dig into you more. She kisses your neck before nuzzling it, “When you whimper like that it, becomes very hard to not tease you.” She pauses to tug on the rope a few more times, “That or, push you down and have my way with you. Heh, heh, I doubt you’d object, isn’t that right, my dirty little Princess?” Your hurried nod and glazed eyes makes her laugh louder before pulling away with her finger still hooked into your trappings, forcing you to shudder as you awkwardly shuffle off the bed.

The smirking faunus makes you stand, well…as much as you can anyway, due to hunching over in hopes of pulling away from the knot to have all of your focus back for more than a fleeting moment. Mistress circles you, inspecting her work. Every once in awhile she reaches out and lightly brushes her fingertips as if she was grazing a fragile flower, and every time you flinch and move away from the phantom like touch on reflex, dooming you to be at the mercy of the rope.

Eventually Mistress drags her index finger from your belly button all the way up to your chin. With a gentle push she silently directs you to stand up straight, causing the bindings to constantly add pressure on your entire drenched center. The faunus keeps her finger there on your chin, just to feel your throat bob with every whimper and whine.

“Maybe…” she says at last after a minute of silently torturing you, “Hm...I wonder.”

You can tell already that this does not bode well for you.

“Stand tall for me, baby girl.”

“Y-y-yes, Mistress.” Simply breathing while tied up like this is driving you mad. As she walks away, you freely let your face blush instead of trying to stay strong (read: not as vulnerable to a predatory Mistress—who knows what misfortune that would bring unto yourself) and try very hard to ignore the fact that you are embarrassingly close—just from this fucking rope!

Mistress disappears into the playroom closet. Metal clacks and jingles before Mistress’ dark, amused chuckle makes your face go paler than normal.

She comes out, and to your utter dismay, is carrying the cheerleading outfit. “You’re so cute. Did you purposely get this themed outfit?” The faunus rocks the costume back and forth, making you curse that smile. Curse and—secretly—masochistically enjoy it.

What you would give to go back in time and tell yourself that getting the black, white and gold cheerleader’s outfit would lead to your doom.

Dust knows you have the money to do it.

Mistress walks—no more like stalks closer slowly, like she had all the time in world, if only to watch you implode on yourself from the anticipation. She rounds again and in a few quick tugs, your arms are freed without undoing the rest of the rope. Mistress holds up the outfit in front of your face, “Well? What are you waiting for? Put it on.” As easy going as her face looks, her words is sharp, threatening steel on your neck.

You try to keep the trembling to a minimum when you reach out and pull the cloth off the hook dangling off Mistress’ outstretched finger. You decide to put the top on first, considering you’d whimper least with that. You hate how tight the semi-spandex article of clothing is on you, because it’s pushing the soft rope tighter on your skin, not to mention grazing your pert nipples. Mistress “graciously” moves your hair away and pulls up the small zipper in the back.

Now…the grand finale. Your new antagonist. And at this point, Mistress’ best friend…

The skirt.

You carefully hold it out and step into it without bending too much, but you find yourself moaning because you forgot to account for how just lifting your leg would drag the rope across your sensitive slit.

You fail to step into the skirt due to wonderful sensation, making you plant your leg down to stand and get a hold of yourself before you fall. Over your shoulder, Mistress is watching carefully, not even bothering to hide the pervy grin. You huff and try again. Now that you’re prepared for it, you somehow manage to get your left leg in.

Any hopes you had of finishing this quickly and as painlessly as possible are dashed when a sudden pull drops the pleated skirt from your weak grip.

You turn around and glare at Mistress, who is looking as coy as possible. When she sees your expression her smile is sickly sweet, “I know you aren’t looking at _me_ like _that_ are you, Princess?”

You take the hint and turn your glare to the floor, “No, Mistress.”  

“Hmm, must have been a trick of the light, then.”

Why, why did you have to ask the most evil Mistress to be your owner?

There’s no time for your griping; you just have to bite the bullet.

You bend over, and like you predicted the rope rubs you in the worst (best) way and makes your vision go white for a second as your gasp sounds louder than it should.

Your thighs shake but you miraculously pull the skirt up and stuff your tail under the hem, doing all that at the cost of moaning like a porn star when the knot grazes your clit again and pushes you humiliatingly towards the edge. It wouldn’t take too much for you to cum at this point.

Mistress graciously zips you up again before turning you to face her. Her smile is far too wide and far too toothy for your comfort. “Such a pretty little thing. And there’s no hint of the ropes…well, except for this.” Mistress hand drops down and touch the cum that leaked down your thigh. She holds her wet fingertips up to you and you get the message. Obediently you open your mouth and clean Mistress of your liquid desperation.

She orders you to stand still and smile while she takes even more pictures. It is slowly dawning on you that being her ‘model’ is turning you on more than it had the right to be. You felt dirty. But a good kind of dirty. Especially for one photo where Mistress makes you lift up the front of your skirt, and takes a picture. Mistress apparently has a few interests like when you bit you lip and blushed, immediately she took a picture of you expression. Or when she takes an up-skirt shot after you let go of the monochromatic skirt. The worst was easily when she got behind you and told you to bend over while she flipped your skirt and tail up, making sure she got an excellent shot of the rope embedding itself in your folds.

Mistress finally seems to be satisfied and pulls the rope so you stand back up. She gets back in front of you and takes in your blush and your eyes following her fingers as she puts the scroll away.

For now.

“Good girl. Now…walk around for me.” Mistress orders.

“Wh-what!” You protest.

“Walk. Around.” Mistress slowly repeats to you as if you were a child. You groan but nod sullenly.

You turn and walk slowly and stiffly in a circle, your path leading you along the walls of the playroom. Good thing too, because every so often your knees would get weak and you’d have to reach out to prop yourself up with the plum colored barriers just until you can walk a few more steps. You’re whimpering quietly the whole may if you don’t outright moan when the large knot of the diamond tie grinds against you _just_ right. But you can see in your split second glances towards Mistress that her faunus ears twitch in time with your pathetic sounds. This just makes you look down to hide how red you are in embarrassment.

And to hide how unexpectedly pleased you are to be Mistress’ entertainment.

But honestly, you are starting to get woozy with all the blood rushing to your face.

You somehow manage to make it back to Mistress without falling over or cumming. And the faunus is very amused with your performance, obviously getting off on your utter humiliation. “Something wrong, baby girl?”

“M-Mistress…”

“Do you have to cum?”

“Yes, Mistress!” You practically yell. The faunus laughs and lifts your skirt up.

Her finger glides over your clit, and you can’t bear to stand anymore. You lean forward into her and whine while your traitorous hips start moving of their own accord.

Mistress laughs low in her throat, “I suppose I’ve had my fun. Let’s see if I can make you cum standing up.” She’s so cheerful about you have the worst urge to throttle her.

 _No_. You say to yourself. _You’re a pet. You are a pet. Pets don’t think about choking their—_ “Fuck!”

Mistress is tugging at the strings as if they were a harp, vibrating and rubbing your poor swollen and sensitive clit. You throw your arms around her neck and hide your face in her chest moaning loudly and uncontrollably. Mistress grabs the rope a few inches above that cursed knot and tugs with one hand and the other grabs your chin and directs your face away from her body so you look up, “Nuh-uh-uh, I want to hear you.”

God, your legs are gonna give out but you lean back on them to scream openly into the air.

“That’s right baby girl, be as loud as you want.” A few more tugs and you look into her dilated eyes, trying to ask with your own because your brain can’t function enough to make words.

She takes mercy on you and says the magic words, “Go on and cum standing up like the good slut you are.”

You don’t waste a single second.

Your fist her shirt as your head is thrown back and the scream that comes out of your mouth is reminiscent of your days performing in concerts and being the ‘Schnee Siren’. It’s loud and reverberating, high pitched yet pleasing, and carries a nice ascending and descending vibrato as you sink to the floor.

Mistress is right there, easing you to the floor as your legs turn to jelly. She pets your head and mutters compliment after compliment while your body quakes with aftershocks.

When you regain some of your strength, it also comes with awareness. Awareness you wish you hadn’t gained because your legs are wet—all the way down. And there’s a small patch of damp carpet below.

“Congratulations Princess, it seems you squirted for the first time.” Mistress says as she pats your head.

“Oh, my god.” You hide your face in Mistress’ shirt. She laughs, but this time, she lets you stay while she slowly and carefully removes your cheerleading outfit. You help her out with the top before promptly shoving your still-burning face into her neck. Mistress uses the position to reach your back and undo the knot gently so as not to agitate your over-stimulated body.

When you are once again naked, Mistress gently lays you down to zip over to the dampened towel she used before and returns. She expertly cleans you up with the softest touch. You can barely feel it if it weren’t for the slight difference in temperature between the cloth and your heated skin. “This might hurt.” She warns before carefully cleaning your center, inside and out. You flinch from the soreness on your clit but Mistress kisses your temple and whispers calming words in a soothing tone.

Mistress puts you on the large bed this time and wraps you in the comforter before kissing your cheek. She takes the blue rope, your sullied cheerleading outfit, and the towel and leaves the room.

She returns in a pair of one of her shorts that were left at your house some time ago. Faintly, you wonder why she changed. Must have gotten too hot for comfort. In her hands are a bowl of fruit and a cool bottle of water. You notice there’s a few more banana slices than normal. “Protein. You have to not only replace fluids but energy, and after _that_ little show, you probably need a lot, Princess.” Mistress supplies when she notices you poking at them. “Do you want a chicken salad sandwich?” Well, you _are_ starving. And you assume it has more protein, so you nod.  

* * *

 

After eating you both are just laying down cuddled with each other. Her arms and her tail are around your waist as she spoons you. Mistress kisses you behind your ear, “I have one more lesson I want to do. If you don’t feel up for it, you don’t have to and we can relax for the rest of the day.”

You think for a minute before snuggling closer, “I want to try. What do you have planned?”

“Sensory deprivation. We’ll start slow then work our way up. Just like we did with the spanking.” Mistress said, softly rubbing your belly.

“You’re not going to have me make a mess are you?”

“Pets don’t have to care about messes. Besides, you’re so cute when you cum.” You blush and grumble which makes Mistress laugh, “You’re also very cute when you blush like that.” You blush harder.

Mistress takes pity on you and gets up to go to the chest. She goes through it and the newly bought items from yesterday, and she pulls out a simple black ribbon, wide and smooth. Mistress places it in your hands to let you feel the soft fabric. “So, we’re starting with blindfolds?”

“Yep. Is that okay with you?” Stroking the ribbon with your thumb you nod resolutely. Mistress kisses your cheek and slides the ribbon from your hold before moving behind you.  “Hold still.” She orders as the ribbon comes down from above you and is snugly placed over your eyes. Mistress carefully ties the blindfold around your head so none of your hair is caught in the knot. “Annnd…done.”

Mistress gets off the bed and presumably stands in front of you. You hear her hum, and you ask “What is it?”

“…Okay, yeah, you definitely can’t see. Perfect.”

That gets your attention and you raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just did a little test, if you had seen what I did, you would definitely have reacted. Tried it from a bunch angles too.” Her voice is starting to lower in volume and you hear her purposely scuff her feet against the carpet, mindful of her usual silent steps.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Princess.”

Mistress’ voice gets fainter and something is dragged before a bunch of items are moved. Is she at the shelves? “All you need to do is relax.” She makes an ‘A-ha!’ sound and closes the drawer to walk back with whatever prize she was searching for. “Now, the next thing is your ability to speak.” She guides your hands to hold two rubbery objects, and judging by whatever is touching your arm must be straps. “These are gags. I wasn’t sure which one you’d want to start with so I got both of the common kinds.” She turns the gag in your left hand and clenches your fingers around a ball. “This is the more known one, the ball gag. This one is solid, but there’s also one with holes like a whiffle ball.”

“Whiffle ball? Why?”

“For the drool.” You must have made quite the face because Mistress  busts up laughing. “What you weren’t expecting drool? Princess, you won’t be able to close your mouth, of course there’ll be drool!”

“Ew.” Is all the rebuttal you can offer.

“Indeed.” She agrees when the last of the giggles fade out, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted this one because, they can really stretch your jaw out. But if you want to we can.” You get the feeling Mistress might be referring to your internet ‘research’.

“What’s the other one?” You mess around with the gag in your right hand, as far as you can tell, it’s just a rubber bar.

“These are called ‘bit gags’. They’re a bit more forgiving then the ball gags.”

“’Bit’? As in like, horse ‘bits’? The ones they use for riding?”

“The same idea, yeah. But I figured that these would be more up your alley.” Mistress frees up your hands and then places them both on a single gag. It feels a little weird. You could tell that it was similar to a bit gag, but the ends were circular, kind of like a dumbbell but with an indent of sorts. “It’s a bone shaped bit gag. I thought it was apt. I also bought one that looks like a squeaky toy.” There’s a sharp squeal in front of you, and it makes you jump in surprise, as Mistress squeaks it a few more times you start to giggle.

She hands it over and you squeeze it as you trace the shape of the gag. The straight bar part is a little expanded, giving it a bit of a convex shape. The dumbbell parts that connect to the straps had tiny rounded spikes. “I think I want to start with the bit. Uh…”

“What is it?”

“…Can I have the squeaky one?”

Mistress chuckles and cradles your face in her hands, “Of course you can, baby girl.” The bed moves and the gags are taken away from the side of you and your lap. Mistress takes the squeaky gag from you, squeezing it somewhere close to your face. “Say ah.” You open your mouth real wide and let her place the gag. “Bite down.” You bite hard, getting the toy to squeak. Mistress chuckles to herself making you smile, (as much as you can with the gag in anyway) pausing to scratch you under your chin. She continues her task and gets behind you to finish hooking up.

“How does that feel? Is it okay?” You nod. “Alright, if you want to stop, bite and make the toy squeak three times. Can you do that for me right now?” It takes a little bit of pressure but you can get the toy to go off three times. “Good girl. I’m gonna do a few quick things around the room, so just sit here.” You nod an affirmation. Mistress leaves you in the middle of the bed and drags her feet on the carpet.

It’s interesting being blinded like this. Your hearing is enhanced and you can track Mistress somewhat as she crosses the room. There isn’t a lot of sound other than that. She doesn’t say much, she just does what she needs to do. Occasionally there are other sounds like a mechanical squeak of gears, lids and drawers. The whole thing is kind of boring otherwise. The taste is kind of bad though, but it’s fine—besides the drool that is. You keep wiping off as it dribbles down your from your mouth.

Mistress scares the shit out you as she suddenly leans over the bed and presses a tissue to your chin, “Sorry.” She apologizes but you mumble around the gag, making a melody that sounds close enough to ‘that’s okay’. After the bulk of the drool has been wiped away Mistress finds your hand and gives you a new tissue.

Then, both of you are slightly startled when there’s a sustained high pitched ding. Huh. You recognize that sound, that’s the washer. She put clothes in laundry?

Oh wait.

The used towels. And the cheerleading outfit.

Yeah, those definitely needed to be washed.

Mistress hums, and you can feel the indecision radiating off her. “You want me to stay here?” Is it okay for her to go and leave the room? Well…you aren’t totally against it. It’s just your paranoia acting up. The door’s locked, there are no windows here, and you trust Mistress so you nod and shoo her away.

She laughs and kisses your cheek before getting off the bed and leaving.

And then…

Silence.

Utter silence.

The room is suddenly so empty. Mistress was quiet before, but you could tell she was there. But the quiet is so loud now. So noticeable. There’s not even a window for the sounds of the city to drift through. And it’s dark. Your eyes roam around but all you can see is darkness and silk.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. There would be some sessions where she could tie you up and leave the room. Leaving you to deal with something, like a dildo in you or something. Yeah. If you think along those lines it isn’t so bad. So you just imagine the buzz of a vibrator and wait.

Soon enough Mistress returns, and you perk up, and the beating of your heart slows down. She puts something heavy on the floor judging by the slight thump it made as she dropped(?) it. “I’m back” She announces as you hear her footsteps go to the other side of the room. The doorknob of what you presume to be the closet opens. Metal jangles slightly and you can make up some strange dragging sounds. It’s as if they’re muffled, but not by distance, like this is its natural sound. Cardboard? Maybe she’s scooting the tubs out of the way. After another second the door closes and the intentionally lazy footsteps approach.

Mistress pauses somewhere in front of the bed. She’s probably taking pictures or something. But you don’t hear a click. Or giggles from the faunus. She’s just…standing there.

“Miftfiss?” You mumble and look in the direction of where you think she is.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Were you okay with me leaving?” The bed sinks as she sits in front of you, holding your hands in her own when you reach out towards her.

You nod.

A touch of silence, “I see.” She rubs the back of your hand. “What if I stopped making noise when I walk?” She pulls the gag out and lets it rest on your chin.

“That’d be fine.” You say after making a few disgusted noises, the rubber tastes funny and you stick out your tongue in distaste.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s test that theory. For three minutes I won’t make noise, but I’ll be in the room. Okay?”

After a moment you nod, and she replaces the gag, using your tissue to wipe up the new streak of saliva. After she gets a new tissue and puts it in your hands, she leaves the bed silently.

It’s just a few minutes, big whoop. But you can’t help but impatiently tap your finger on your knee. The silence feels as if it’s twisting time and making it longer than it should be.

Mistress blessedly returns to the bed, “Alright, how are you?”

She pulls the gag down to hang off your neck this time, and after making a face at the feeling of cold spit you answer, “I’m fine. What’s next?”

“You don’t want to stop here?”

“No.” You roll your eyes. You’re a big girl, what’s she so worried about?

“Okay.” You feel a box of tissues placed in your lap and you waste no time wiping off the saliva on your neck.

Eww.

Something opens and the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric can be heard. She must be in the chest again. Her voice gets louder as she walks noisily back, “Are you okay with me tying your hands?” Mistress grabs your hand and lets you feel the smooth yet tight texture of what must be another rope.

“How many of these did you buy?”

“Enough.”

You frown but answer her earlier question, “I’m fine with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

There’s a slight pause but you eventually hear her start to move, and then she puts her hands on your shoulders and guides you to lay face down on the bed. She’s particularly soft and gentle, making sure you don’t get surprised by any of her touches. Soon, the faunus has your hands tied together like before, she tests the tightness and then gets off the bed while helping you sit up.

“Alright, now is anything bothering you?” You shake your head. “I’m going to go silent now.” She re-ties the toy themed gag and kisses your forehead before the bed bounces once more before her weight has disappeared.

Now you’re back to being bored. With your hands tied behind your back. Whatever.

You belatedly realize Mistress never said a thing about a time limit. So is this going to only be for another three minutes, or will it be longer?

You try in vain to make out Mistress breathing or any footsteps. Nothing moves. Nothing opens, nothing slides, no sound of friction, no jangling, no fabric or metal or anything.

Just total complete silence.

How long has it been now? Is the quiet messing with your sense of time? You guess maybe five minutes. This is boring…just boring. It doesn’t matter if your heart is beating fast, it’s just excited, like you are. There’s no pit in your stomach.

No, really.

Was the mansion ever this quiet? There would be servant shuffling around, cooks making food in loud pots and pans. And in early mornings, an echo that could carry the sound of a page of a book turning.

Did Mistress leave? She probably left the room. There’s no way someone could be this quiet.

Did something happen? Is there anyone else in the apartment? Is your reputation being ruined? When you murmur around the gag, no one answers. Is she really still here? Mistress? Mistress?

For some reason you are reminded of your Mother.

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeakkkkk!_

Within seconds the bed depresses and your hands are undone simultaneously with your blindfold. You rip your wrists away and practically spit out the gag.

A warm body and the familiar smell of lavender and libraries envelop you. You cling to the strong arms and try to calm down the heavy breathing you didn’t know you were doing. There are kisses and questions against your head and neck, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did I go too fast?”

You lean back onto her shoulder and curl up a bit on her lap.

“No—it was just—I was thinking that—thinking…” She shushes you hugs you tighter and her tail wrapped around you. She started to lightly rock side to side and giving you a moment to collect yourself. The spots in your vision clear up from suddenly being exposed to light after being blinded for so long. Your shoddy vision would explain how there was a flicker of another Mistress throwing the covers over you despite feeling both of Mistress’ arms keeping you in a firm hold. You snuggle into the new blanket and sigh. “Um. It was…a little too quiet for me. I freaked out. I thought you had left.”

Mistress kisses your shoulder, “No, never. I was just sitting in that chair over there, see?” You turn slightly to see one of the dining room table’s chairs sitting in the direction of where you heard that loud thump when the faunus came back into the room. “I just wanted to watch and make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” You say almost venomously if it weren’t for the tiredness of your tone.

“Earlier when I came back from switching the laundry to the dryer, you had this weird face. Almost like you were worried or wide eyed.”

“My face was covered up.” You argue.

“I know; that’s what made it worrying.” That quiets you. Truthfully, you didn’t even know you were making such a face. “I asked you a bunch of times if you were okay, because I could tell you weren’t, or at least not totally.” She kissed the crown of your head, “I think you were lying to yourself, which is why you looked truthful, but—I don’t know exactly how to put this—it was like there was hint of fear? Or just that you were uncomfortable.”

“…How long did I last?”

“A little past five minutes.”

“Oh.” Is all you say for awhile, as you just relaxed in Mistress’ hold. Mistress hums a soothing tune and between that and the gentle rocking you almost fall asleep. “My mother.”

“Hm?”

“The silence reminded me of my mother. Father and Winter left on a trip, which was okay because Mother was there and I loved to spend time with her. Overnight she disappeared—kidnapped. A few days later they found her assassinated. It was so quiet then, those few days when I tried to find her. I thought she left me.”

Mistress stiffened and then buried her head in your neck, “I’m sorry. If I had known…”

“No, don’t apologize. I pretty much forgot about until then. It just—freaked me out a little. I felt helpless.”

“Do you want to stop for today?”

“No let’s keep going.”

“What?”

“I want to—need to get over it. This just made me realize that ever since I started living on my own I had something on as background noise if I was alone. At night I open the window despite all that racket outside. I thought I was past that. Apparently not.”

Mistress nodded, “Okay. You know, they say that bdsm can be a purging/ cleansing experience. Bringing up emotions that have been buried and deal with them or get them out. I guess there’s some merit to that.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Hey, how about we pause for dinner and come back to this, so everything isn’t so…raw.”

“Good idea.”

Mistress nodded and kissed you deeply. You could tell she was still very sorry about the whole thing, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Neither of you knew how that would affect you; it was just something that happened. And while you had a slight anxiety attack it did bring up an epiphany of sorts.

While waiting for dinner you luxuriated on your paw bed in the living room, wrapped in soft fuzzy throw blanket and given full rein of Netflix. You chose a cartoon and cuddled with the many stuffed animals surrounding you and a small bowl with Reese’s pieces in it. Mistress would occasionally check on you and give you plenty of kisses.

* * *

 

After you had finished dinner and cleaned, you are feeling much better. Now you and Mistress are sitting on the bed, with the gag, blindfold, and the black rope between you.

“Okay, Princess, what do you think we should do to make this more comfortable for you?”

You hum and think it over while playing with the squeaky toy gag. It’s a bright lime green apparently, with some yellow accents and on the very tips on the tiny spikes are bits of red. “Well…can you tie my hands in front of me?”

“Of course, baby girl. Anything else?”

“Um. When you go quiet can you… stay next to me? I’m sure I’ll get farther later but for now, I think that’s it.” Mistress smiles gently and pets your head. She nods and begins to set you up.

This time she’s going backwards, starting with the rope first, allowing you to see all of the steps. Another change is that she doesn’t bind your wrists together but rather restrains them in a handcuff-like tie with a large knot in the middle. She checks the tightness and then holds the gag up for you to bite it, and then scoots behind you to fasten it.

“Ready?” She picks up the blindfold. You nod and willingly close your eyes. A second later the soft material is pulled taut over your eyelids and is held in place with a firm knot. Mistress rounds in front of you and checks for any discomfort. “I’m gonna grab something and then I’ll be right back.” After nodding in understanding she kisses your eyelids and gets off the bed. Her steps are heavy and noticeable even as the faunus starts to talk. “I originally wanted to see if I could get you ‘check out’ in a way. You know, tie your hands together, tie your feet together, blinded and gagged and just let your mind wander but…” Mistress starts to go through the shelves on the far wall, “I got ahead of myself. I know this is a period to test limits but I didn’t want to incite a anxiety attack. So this time, instead of having you try to clear your mind, I’m going to have you focus on something good.” Mistress gets back on the bed and you can just barely sense the covers being disturbed a few feet from you.

Her hands gently lie on your thighs and massage them for a moment before they hooked under your knees and slowly dragged you to the edge of the bed.  She makes sure you’re sitting up straight and stands in between your legs. You feel her kiss your forehead and her hands wander your smooth skin. She grabs the large knot and guides your hands to her shirt and makes you push it up so you can place your palms on her toned stomach. You happily take the opportunity to run your hands all over her abs, it’s one of your favorite parts to touch after all. Well, those and the ‘V’ she has that disappears into her shorts, which she guides your hands to next. Mistress places your thumbs on the inside of the hem, silently commanding you to pull them down

You waste no time.

With some fumbling, you pull the waist band over her hips and you tug them down as far as you can without falling off the bed. It sounds like she stepped out of the leg holes and now she grabs the knot and redirects you to her boxer briefs, starting at the hem a bit above her knees, and lets you feel up the cotton. You wonder if you’re blushing as hard as you think you are.

Mistress lets go of your bonds and suddenly you are given freedom to touch her as you like. It’s embarrassing how eagerly you run your hands up and down her form, touching her smooth skin and finding sensitive spots that makes her chest stutter, which you hope means that her breath hitched. As you continue up, you’re surprised to find that Mistress has rid herself of her shirt and bra, and you tentatively ascend to her chest and hold a breast in each hand. As you fondle them you swear that you can feel Mistress’ elevating body heat radiate off her. The real prize comes from you slowly dragging your thumb over her nipple, working it around in circles, the faunus shivers and rewards you with a low moan.

With your eyes shut, your hearing is better, and with that comes with the realization of hearing how hard both you and Mistress are breathing as the foreplay is starting to get to you both. The faunus grabs your hands once again and tucks your fingers into the hem of her trunks more urgently than before. Obeying the silent order you tug the underwear down immediately. You go red when you smell Mistress’ arousal, and redder still when she slips one of your hands to cup her core. She’s burning hot and dripping wet. In a moment of indulgence you take your hand away and lick up Mistress’ cum that had collected in between your fingers.

Mistress growls a bit and you take satisfaction in that.

Now it’s you who’s doing all the teasing.

Strong arms wrap around you and pull you up, carrying you until you’re on your side with your head on the pillows. Mistress settles behind and spoons you with her arms still holding you and her tail slithers and spirals about your leg.

After getting settled, the silence returns. Before, even though Mistress wasn’t saying anything, her body itself was sending you into near sensory overload but now you can’t even hear her breath, as if it’s been erased. The only proof she seemed to be alive was the heat emanating from her and the slight push of her chest against her back as her lungs filled with air. Despite the stillness, if you concentrated, you could faintly pick up her pulse as her heart pumped just behind her ribs.

You focused on the steady tempo of her heart, counting in fours as if you were going over a piece of music, letting that beat fill your ears and mind.

As you kept your concentration on Mistress’ pulse, it belatedly hits you that you’ve spent a long time like this.

It is mostly because of the drool puddle on your cheek that brings you out of your trance-like state.

“Ewww.” Even despite the gag, there was no mistaking your sound of disgust. And it was this that finally broke Mistress’ silence as she snorted and started to giggle into the back of your neck.

She snuggled into you, something you now notice she didn’t do the whole time you lied down. She hums contently –suspiciously close to a purr—and rubs your stomach “Good job, Princess.” You hear her move around behind you and then the familiar sound of a click and low beep of a scroll being opened, “Almost sixteen minutes.” She puts the scroll down and moves around for a moment and eases the gag out your mouth and you are free from the rubber taste once more. You feel her fiddling with the straps from behind before any pressure pushing on your head has lifted. The world fills up with too bright lights and vivid colors too blurry to be given proper shape, after a few blinks sharpness and detail come back. Mistress gently lays you on your back and straddles you to take off your rope handcuffs.

When you are released Mistress gets the med kit she extracted before she joined you in bed. She pulls out some light blue soothing lotion made for rugburn and such instead of the cream from earlier. You imagine that if you end up on your knees for long periods of time you will become quite well acquainted with its berry smell. Mistress pops the cap open and squeezes pea sized dollops of the blue lotion on her hand and works it gently on your wrists. The lotion has a strange but soothing cooling sensation.

When the lotion is fully worked in with no white streaks remaining on top of your skin Mistress takes the blindfold and gag, and tosses them to the floor for now. She lowers herself onto her elbows on either side of your head and kisses your gently, “You’ve done so well, baby girl. This has been a good day, don’t you agree?”

Your voice is quiet as you pull her down, relishing the feel of her warm body weight on yours, her familiar calming smell, and the beat of her heart, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Is my little Princess tired?” You nod while closing your eyes and hum happily when she combs her fingers through your hair. “Then let’s get you into a nice bubble bath. I got a bath bomb I think you’ll like.”

You crack on eye open, “Is it cherry?”

“Mhm.”She kisses you on the forehead, the cheek, your chin, your lip, you eyebrow and eyelid, and finally, she lingers over your scar. “Come on, we could both use a bath.” She sits up and you whine as her warmth leaves you, but that is simply remedied by her picking you up and nuzzling your cheek. “Such a good girl.”


	4. Domesticate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day of training, with some new skills learned, and new states of mind.

“Mistress?”

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I think I’m starting to really, really _hate_ bananas.”

Mistress laughs unsympathetically at you and your stuck-out tongue. You just know you’re going to taste bananas for hours.

You understand the point, and despite the firmness, they are soft enough that you won’t choke on it but…ugh. This wasn’t how you expected your afternoon to go, really.

The day started out nice enough; Mistress woke you and teased you for a long while only to pull away before you could finish, claiming breakfast was more important. To get your attention off of your throbbing core, you took a nice nap after breakfast, stretched a bit and played, and then you got ready for Mistress’ return with a mischievous grin. In hopes of maybe wooing her by demonstrating how alluring you are as a playful red fox. The look was completed by the accompanying ears and (training)tail, a black collar, matching black cuffs, and a nice thin red ensemble with some flashy, yet barely there, fabric and patterns. A red garterbelt sat on your hips with red straps leading to the black fox pawed stockings Mistress got you. The coup de grace though, had to be the black c-string you were wearing. It was easier to wear than you though it would be, considering.

It was perfect. There’s no way Mistress could resist this. You’ve been craving her touch and this is your ticket to getting it.

And then Mistress came home…

* * *

 

“It’s me!” Mistress calls out and knocks on the door. You giggle, wondering how good the reaction will be once she sees you. Quickly, you undo the top and bottom lock and hurry behind the couch on your paw bed.

“It’s open!”

The door opens, and then closes almost immediately after. The wind carries the smell of bananas through the room, piquing your interest, but you stay where you are, trying to school your face into something other than a shit-eating grin. Think sly, think seductive, think smug.

Yeah, you got this.

You hear Mistress sigh in relief from coming home after the long day’s grind. Over the couch you can see her removing her beanie, and her shirt scrunches as she unwraps her tail from her waist. “So how was your…” She turns the corner and sees you laid back on your bed looking like a goddess. Your long legs are stretched out and you have your head propped up lightly by the huge teddy bear behind you. Your hands are idly trailing up and down your body, waist to knee.

Mistress drops her beanie in shock and her tail goes ramrod straight up in the air. You never thought it’d be possible to see someone’s mouth go dry, but the faunus’ dropped jaw is providing a wonderful example.

Keeping the smirk at bay is becoming harder and harder with every second she spends ravaging your body with her eyes, “What was that, Mistress?” You tip your head to the side for maximum innocence factor, rewarded by a vibrant blush on Mistress’ features.

“You are without a doubt, a little shit…As well as a tasty little tart.” She licks her lips whilst standing tall and her eyes go half lidded. The confident look has you blushing a little, and you duck your head to hide it. Mistress snaps her fingers three times and you follow the wordless command, sitting in front of her and presenting yourself like she taught you yesterday. She inspects you by walking around, tipping your head back to lightly brush her fingers down the column of your throat before tapping it, “Today, I’m going to teach you how to make use of this throat of yours.” You swallow reflexively and she can feel it, bringing a predatory smile to her face. She chuckles before pulling away her hand and walking back to where she’s in front of you. Mistress causes you to gasp as she lifts the top of her foot and presses it to your covered core, forcing your hips up. “Where do you get these delightfully slutty things?” The pressure disappears but you can hardly relax before her palm practically slaps your core as she forcefully cups and fondles it. Whimpering only makes Mistress’ smile wider and her eyes gleam. “Because it makes me want to _break_ you. This body, that belongs to me, being wrapped up in such a pretty package makes it quite hard to not want to play with it. See it bruised and weary… my teeth indented on every inch.” You moan and your arms are close to giving out. Luckily you don’t have to worry about that because she snatches you up by your collar and pulls you close to her manically grinning face, all too much like the cat that got the cream, “So tell me, do you want me to break you?”

You take in a few needed breaths before answering, “Maybe…”

Mistress’ grip pulls you even closer, the distance small enough that you can see your reflection in her dark pupils, “Do you want me to _fuck_ you?”

“Yes, please, Mistress.” Pleading makes your voice so small but so heavy with excitement.

“Well, too bad.” You don’t even get the chance to frown before she roughly tosses you away until you hit the couch, bouncing off the back cushion. “I don’t fuck wild animals. Until you graduate you are nothing but a feral whore begging at my feet.” Just to rub it in, Mistress taps her foot and you pout, but move as you were taught. You come up to her feet and kiss your way up. When you reach her waist, she holds your cheek, “Next time you try to seduce me before you’ve graduated, I will not be so lenient. But I suppose it’s good you’re very eager. We have a lot to cover after all.” The faunus lightly shoves you off her leg and grabs a leash from the bedroom. You’re led to the kitchen and the cloying scent of bananas is overwhelming.

You sit on the tile floor, still sulking at how your plan failed. Mistress is opening a couple of bags and pulls out several ripe bunches of bananas. You squint and raise an eyebrow, getting closer to the island she’s standing in front of and give the fruit a closer look, “What’s with all the bananas, Mistress?”

She smiles and leans down to rub your throat, “I’m going to teach you how to suck dick, baby girl.” Your eyes cross and your body burns. The way she says it makes you think that this may have been a recurring fantasy for her. The faunus makes you sit still and observe her peeling the banana completely and pulling it free. “It’s still on the rigid side so nothing will break without it being too hard for beginners.” She rotates it and holds it up for you to get a good look at before tipping her head backwards. Mesmerized, each second is slow as you get easily caught up in how she effortlessly eases the banana into her mouth and down her throat until the very tips of her fingers are just behind her teeth. She lifts it up halfway and then plunges it down again and again. Finally she takes out the fruit from her throat and shows the still intact—if a little wet—banana. Mistress smirks and takes a bite of the banana, relaxing and leaning her arm on the breakfast bar to hold her head with her hand.

Finally you manage to get your jaw off the floor. You pause to wipe off some drool, still replaying the scene in your mind. Man, you are starting to really get why Mistress seems to adore the thought of you giving head. Compared to this, your earlier attempt at seduction seems amateurish. You wag your tail, “I wanna try!”

She chuckles, “Alright, alright.” But instead of a banana, she goes to the study and gets the small wastebasket and sits it in front of you, still empty with a fresh bag that was replaced a couple days ago.

“What’s this for?”

Mistress grabs a plate and sets three bananas on it and puts it down next to you—a little distance away, that is. She pats your head, “Trying to control your gag reflex can be hard. Aura helps but…”

Oh.

* * *

So, an hour and a half and 23 bananas later, we are back in the now and you _finally_ manage to get one down your throat and hold it there for five seconds. You take it out and breathe heavily. It doesn’t break; it’s wetter and sloppier than Mistress’ example, but you actually did it! Mistress claps and praises you, but understandably doesn’t go get a treat.

“Good job! You got it!” She cheers.

“Mistress?”

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I think I’m starting to really, really _hate_ bananas.” After laughing at you she cleans up, getting rid of the waste, putting the rest of the bananas away (2 and a half bunches) and gets a warm, wet rag ready in the bathroom before coming back into the kitchen and wiping you down.

“Well, look at it this way; you stopped making a mess after attempt number 5.” You glare at the wall straight ahead but say nothing as she dabs banana strings and bits from your mouth.

“Not fun.”

Mistress chuckles, “At least I eased you into it. My first attempt was far more embarrassing.” She stands up and walks away after feeling that her job was done and goes to throw the rag in the wash. Her statement makes you wonder, but you’re pretty sure you’re not going to get an answer.

Mistress cradles you in her arms and carries you back to the living room, sitting you on the couch and patting your head, and tells you to stay.

Ugh, you can still taste the fruit in the back of your throat.

Mistress comes back from messing around in the kitchen, it sounded like she was filling something up with water. The faunus gathers you in her arms and reaches for the remote, “Let’s take a break and then we’ll continue.” The faunus looks to you and after a moment you nod, deciding that you can keep going. “Alright. I’m making you some tea right now, so let’s just sit for a moment.”

“Tea?” You croak, you voice is noticeably tougher.

“Mhm. Tea and honey helps soothe a sore throat. So does cough drops, but for now, tea it is.”

* * *

It’s an hour later and you test your throat by doing a few scales. When you both are satisfied, Mistress points in front of the near floor-to-ceiling windows the couch faces and the TV is pushed up against. You sit to the left of the television, in between it and the bookshelves on the leftmost wall, she tells you to wait patiently while she goes and grabs the next training tool.

You are both nervous and excited to find out what she means.

The beeping of the keypad to the playroom clues you into where she’s going, but doesn’t narrow down the possibilities at all. So instead of over thinking it, you look outside the window, placed just below your neck when you sit on your knees. The sun glitters off of the slightly shorter skyscrapers painted in various colors of grey, platinum, chrome and muted blues from stylized windows reflecting the expanse of the sky. Up higher are public transportation bullheads, made discernible by the city of Vale’s insignia and the purple and reds of the Vytal Transportation Corp. The plain grey bullheads for specialized use and cargos pass each other by in carefully orchestrated movements. The sea and the white bridge glow brightly off to the left where the urban gives way to the suburban and beyond that the unmistakable vibrant reds of the Forever Fall Forest. The city of Vale was quite the beautiful city with an amazing view.

Except when a dildo is placed right in front of it.

You yelp slightly and back off. Suctioned cupped onto the glass was a realistic, moderately sized phallus standing erect and tall, pointing directly in your face. Mistress chuckles and pats your head, “This is the next step. Now that we have the basics, it’s time to work on proper form and technique.”

Tipping your head back to look at the faunus who is standing close behind you, it is made clear on your face you have no idea what she’s talking about. You look back at the awaiting toy and shyly grab it, lifting it up and down for a quick inspection. It’s actually kind of soft, and when you clench your fingers it squeezes in a bit. Pliable but serviceable, in more ways than one.

You had hardly noticed the second thing Mistress had, due to her hiding it behind her back and the toy absorbing all of your attention. A fluffy pillow is set down in front of your knees, “Kneel on that so it’ll keep your knees from getting scraped up.” The material is high quality and kneeling on it is akin to floating on cotton, “Hm, straighten up your spine and instead of sitting, stand on your knees, ok. Perfect, just the right height.”

Height?

A bullhead passes over the building, sinking the windows in shadows enough that when you look slightly above where the dildo was suction cupped to, you can easily see the reflection of Mistress’ grinning visage standing right behind you with the toy—and conjunctly your face—seemingly coming out of her jeans right where her zipper is.

The sun returns and it happily lights up the burning red on your face. Slowly, you spare a glance over your shoulder and sure enough, you are at the perfect height to unzip Mistress’ pants—at this elevation you could probably do it with your teeth!

“Something wrong?” A look at the faunus’ reflection in the glass is faint, but the lewd grin is easy to spot.

“N-no, Mistress.”

“Good. Then let’s continue. When giving head, you can’t just start with gobbling the thing down like a starving man would a donut.” _Then what was the point of that banana torture?_ “It’s best to ease into it—unless I say otherwise, but that’s another day. Seduction is key. It functions as additional foreplay, which I know is something you have experience in, right, baby girl?” The tip of her finger brushes down the side of your neck, causing you to shiver and lean into a waiting hand on the other side of your head, where the thumb delicately rubs the apples of your cheeks.

A shiver down your spine reminds you that you were asked a question, “Y-yes, Mistress.”

“Then this should be second nature to you. Just another part of your breeding instincts. Shake.” You wonder what that means. You give Mistress your hand without a second thought, the captured hand is then led to the base of the toy and Mistress curls your fist around it, not in a tight grip, but loosely holding it. As she’s guiding your hand, you are hit by the sudden realization that the toy is the same color as her lightly bronzed skin. Oh, fuck. “Stroke it, slow and soft.” The blush from earlier hadn’t left and now it has deepened thanks to the husky tone of the faunus’ orders.

You start with minute pumps, shyly moving your hand. After a few repetitions you start to move your hand a little more, just as slow but the strokes are getting longer and longer. You had noticed the somewhat distinct line on the underside of the phallus resembling a vein leading in a straight line from sack to tip and you move decide to experiment by tracing your thumb along it. That must have been a good thing because you can feel a gentle breeze from the faunus’ tail fluidly lashing back and forth.

Eventually, every pump stops just below the head of the toy, so you keep it interesting by rotating your hand left and right a little. Whatever this is made of, it’s very pleasant to the touch and you find yourself playfully and light squeezing. In Mistress’ reflection you can make out her tongue as she licks her lips, “Good, that’s how you start off. Now get a little closer to the head.” She explains the anatomy of a penis, pointing out the glands, frenulum, and the corona. “Now start with little kisses, up and down the whole thing.” Mistress’ obvious excitement is starting to light a fire in your belly. With her visually getting off on you (learning how to) suck cock, it inspires you to get into it more.

As per her orders, the head of the cock is graced with a slightly wet kiss before you turn the toy to the side and pepper the shaft with more. As you go along, your speed drops right as you reach the toys sack, “Suck it.” You hear, and so you do. The skin of the balls is soft and realistic with small gel spheres inside to give a correct hang and substance. You take one of them in your mouth and lightly suck on it, visibly licking it for good measure.

You swear you heard a whine.

Noise or not you move on with your task, repeating your actions and moving back up, your kisses are a little sloppier than before but you think it’s fine judging by the quiver in Mistress’ ears. Her voice is only a little shaky, but certainly an octave lower, “Such a good girl. What a smart little whore. Now lick it from bottom to top on the underside.” You adjust the toy by lifting it up some so you can smoothly run your tongue up it. Just for kicks when you get to the head, you rapidly flick out your tongue, grazing the head, “Eager little slut. Take the head into your mouth and work it over.” Popping it into your mouth and dramatically moaning (maybe it’s not so played up because you can feel the wetness pressed up against you and leaking down your thigh) earns you a small groan. Experimentally, each part of the cock is thoroughly licked. Every crease and bump is covered by your tongue, making your head bob up and down a little for all those longer swipes. Naturally you hold the neglected base in your hand and continually stroke it, slowly easing more and more of the shaft in your mouth.

Somewhere along the line you had closed your eyes, but that is quickly undone when a hand rests softly on your head and Mistress whispers in your ear, “Come on, you can take a little more, can’t you? Show me how well pure-bred sluts like you swallow cock.” God, it’s hard to concentrate with her doing that, not to mention the other hand rubbing your back.

It’s time to put that earlier training to work. Your free hand that had been balancing you on the floor is instead brought to the glass and you bob your head more. Everything is going well, but once you get to the halfway point and your hand is brushing your lips, the strain in your jaw reminds you of how wide the toy was in comparison to the bananas. Your body jolts, but Mistress quickly notices your problem. She hooks her hand under your jaw and pushes you lightly backwards while simultaneously massaging your neck. “Go at your own pace. You don’t have to take it all at once. Just focus and make your gag reflex non-existent, make sure all your teeth are out of the way, and hold yourself steady and still.” After you swallow, you nod and get right back to it, easing forward slower. “Good form dictates that you try to move so your mouth and throat are lined up.” Mistress reaches over and angles the toy down acutely and suddenly it’s much easier to swallow the shaft. “Take big breaths when you need them.” Her hand rests on your head again, doing nothing other than sitting there, keeping your head straight. Confidently you take more and more, guiding the cock into place down your accommodating throat.

With one big breath, you take it all. Your focus is on the cool of the glass against your nose, helping you ignore the pain of your jaw and strain on your throat that’s reflexively swallowing the obstruction, squeezing the pliable toy in a way you assume would be pleasurable to an actual person.

Your breath runs out and you disengage, breathing hard as the threads of saliva still connecting you and the toy break. Now that you’re off of it, you recognize the muted purring behind you. When you tip your head up, Mistress is looking very red, and extremely pleased, “What a wonderful pet. Such a good girl.” Your core throbs, “You look _so_ good sucking dick. I’m proud of you, Princess. Think you could do it again?” You nod, wanting to hear more praise. Getting back into position you take the toy into your mouth and play with it before making your way down in three bobs. “Again.” You bob once before deepthroating it. “Again. Again. _Again_.” By now, a rhythm has developed allowing continuous bobs that engulf the whole of the toy. She tells you to keep going and you feel her step out from behind you until she’s leaning on the window right next to the toy. Her hand pets you as you go. “Now, this is very important. Eye contact. Look at me, baby girl. Look at me while you service my cock.”

Blue meets amber and it’s plain to see the hunger on Mistress’ face. At some point, her self-control had to break, you figured that much. However, when Mistress stops you and tells you to play the first few inches, it leaves her plenty of room to undo her pants only a little and shove her hand into her trunks. Her wrist moves in an unmistakable way and her body shivers. She holds the back of your head again and silently orders you to get back to taking the whole thing.

With every other bob you glance up at her burning eyes, glowing brightly, and dark and dilated pupils watching your every move. And with Mistress being this close, the smell of her arousal and her not-so-silent grunts make it all too easy to use your imagination and replace the glass the dildo is attached to with Mistress’ body. Stuffing it down your throat, letting Mistress use every opening to fuck you to her wishes, you visualize the taste of cum being smeared on your tongue, and the swelling of her cock as her climax approaches, your imagination runs wild. Mistress hisses and rocks her hips, eyes still looking at your work, when you come back to the glass; her hand keeps you there at the base for a moment. Glancing up, patience and curiosity painting your features leads to an (almost) innocent look, and the visual is too much for the faunus. Black twitching ears pin back against Mistress’ head and her tail quivers and lashes, but that pleased sigh she releases when she throws her head back is what really gets you.

Your whimper brings her glazed over eyes back to you, after a moment of hard breathing she lightly pushes you back and off the wet toy. She slides down and sits exhausted on the floor. “You’re such a good girl, Princess. My pure-bred cock-hungry slut.” The words seem harsh but the praise makes you proud of yourself as she pets you with the free hand that had been on your head. “Does my cute little Princess want a treat?”

Your hands happily knead at the ground and you wag your tail quickly, “Yes, please!” Yikes…thanks to the even bigger size of the dildo your voice is pretty wrecked.

Mistress coos at you sympathetically and motions you over. Her gaze drops down to your sopping wet center and she smirks, “I see you enjoyed servicing my cock. Good girl, now open up.” Her hand slips out from her pants and she presents three cum covered fingers. The ultimate gift: an Owner’s nectar presented for a job well done. Quickly you open your mouth—disregarding the ache in your jaw—and stick out your tongue. She puts them right in front of your mouth and nods, allowing you to suck and lick at them greedily, making sure every last bit is lapped up. Mistress tastes good too, so much so that this little sample makes a pit in your stomach, begging to be filled with more of it.  

When the wet hand pulls away you whine, “Mistress, please, can you help me with…this?” You sit up and softly touch the inside of your thighs, glistening with your liquid excitement. The faunus licks her lips in a way that can only be called ‘predatory’. She reaches out and drags her wet hand up and collects some drops, the coolness of the trails of your saliva left behind contrasts on your heated skin so much you shiver.

“Well, since you did such a good job…” Mistress hums and buttons her pants. She eases you down on your back and rids you of the c-string, her eyes light up with hunger, looking down at you like her next meal.

And considering how she’s spreading your legs and lowering her mouth, it’s a safe assumption.

Mistress is so gentle, licking up whatever she missed in gentle laps, so much so that you can barely feel it were it not for the slightly rough texture of her tongue. Slowly and thoroughly she ascends, throwing your legs over her shoulders while you whine in expectation; you can feel her breath on you, you can sense that damn _smirk._

Two fingers spread your lips wide and the faunus makes a show of looking it over, “Look how excited you are. Do you like sucking cock this much?” You shake your head. She frowns at your shy denial, “Don’t lie, the proof’s right here. Now…” She slowly spins your clit around with a finger, making you throw your head back and grip the carpet, “Tell the truth, did my little cumslut enjoy sucking me off?”

You shudder. There’s just so much in that very sentence that sends a shock through your system. You gulp and try to look away from Mistress’ gaze—it doesn’t work, you’re too transfixed by the way the black of her pupil stares you down and traces your sensitive body with obvious intent. Eventually you bite the bullet and nod slowly.

“Good girl.” The phrase sends heat down your body at the very moment Mistress’ tongue takes a nice, long, indulgent lick. Hips buck and you whimper, after not being touched for so long, even that much electrifies your body. She cleans you up, lightly just to drive you insane; any attempt at moving your hips is fruitless, for she wraps her strong arms around your thighs and holds them steady as the faunus has her merry way with you.

It’s only a matter of minutes before she has you crooning in a low voice interspersed with outright moans of surprise.

Mistress pulls away and you whimper and lightly tug her closer with a weak hand on her shirt. “No cumming.” She smiles at your shocked expression and offended gasp. Mistress chuckles for a second before her face go blank as a thought occurs to her before it translates into a manic grin that would make the Cheshire cat proud. “Or…I could let you cum; but you’ll hate yourself later. So choose wisely.”

Later, huh? There’s really no way to know what she’s thinking of, and even though logically know that it’s a bad idea, your throbbing and heated body made a damn good argument. Mistress waits—quite happily it seems—while your eyes swing back and forth, trying to make a good decision and slowly coming to the conclusion that either choice will only screw you over in the long run.

You gulp and spread your legs presenting yourself, “I—please, Mistress—I can’t—I _need_ it!”

Before your world goes dark from slamming your eyes shut due to Mistress’ skill, you see a look of utter, terrible glee.

You’re pretty sure you might have just doomed yourself, but it’s really hard to care when Mistress is tongue-deep inside you.

“Ahn! _Mmmnn~_ Pleas—please! Mistress may I cum?”

“Heheh, go on my beautiful little slut, cum for me.” Your hands find purchase in black locks and a throaty moan rips itself from your mouth, screaming the faunus’ title shamelessly.

A thin sheen of sweat coats you and your heaving chest works hard to make up for the sudden loss of air. Mistress extricates herself from pale trembling legs and licks her chin clean of your nectar. She leans over you, supported on one arm and drags her knuckles down your ruddy cheeks, looking at your face intensely, as if she was looking for something. “Mistress?”

Her focused look ends and she smiles lightly. “Come on, baby girl. It’s time for your next lesson.” She helps you over on your knees and intentionally goes slow when she walks over to get the leash. It gives your legs the time to recover—not completely, but enough that you can shuffle to the playroom at a moderate pace. Mistress unclips you and directs you to the bed, “Bend over and keep that pretty little ass high in the air, ok, Princess?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Your knees complain for a moment before you let the bed hold your weight. The cool satin in nice against your cheek and you take a moment to enjoy it before the inevitable spanking. Looking up allows you to see Mistress looking over her options in spanking tools. She picks one up, twirls it between her fingers before looking back at you and evaluating something; whether it was your reaction or how she wanted your ass to look you don’t know. After about five minutes she sighs and puts the paddle she was holding back in its place on the board.

“Hmm, how about we get a little personal?” Mistress grins and stalks towards you. Her hand slowly goes to her waist, and the high pitched clink of the black belt’s buckle rings. With one smooth motion, the belt is pulled through the loop and hangs low, almost to Mistress’ ankle.

The faunus smirks at your blushing face, eyes flicking to the belt and then her amber eyes that shone with excitement and mischief. The belt is folded over so both ends are in Mistress’ hand, leaving a nice long loop to work with. She sees your expression, a mix of fear and arousal, thinking about all the possibilities, so she swings the loop purposefully making your eyes follow it back and forth, almost hypnotizing you. Mistress brings it up slowly and drags the leather on your cheek, letting you get a sample of the texture and then trails it down your back until it sits ready at the side of your right buttcheek.

Your owner hums a little as she massages your ass with her free hand, groping it to her delight and makes you squeak. Then you are forced to yelp and jump a bit as she starts to smack it in preparation, the cold of the buckle reminding you what’s coming.

After a hard swat, you reflexively move away from the sting, “See, that’s what we’re going to be working on. I don’t want you to move when I spank your ass. If I spank your thighs or pussy, then sure, but I want you to hold still, waiting patiently for the next hit, without having to make me expend energy uselessly trying to chase you around just because you can’t handle the pain.” She pinches your butt for emphasis. “Now spread your legs a little. Good girl, just like that. Stand firm, okay?” You nod and settle into your stance, “Let’s begin. Ready…set…” Her hit is comparatively light, but enough to draw a yip from you. For the first hit, you stand strong, and after a moment, Mistress continues with little slaps, easing you into the deep end by letting you get used to the feeling of the belt reddening your ass.

You get to maybe 15 when a particularly hard strike causes you to jump. “Two for flinching.” Two quick, stinging hits punish you, sharper than her other strikes. She pauses for a few seconds, giving you ample time to focus again and push past the prickly kind of pain that came with sore, hot skin embracing the cool air. Mistress pats you on the ass as a signal that she’s going to continue. You gulp and press your face into the cool sheets, feeling that you’ll be here awhile.

* * *

“I could do this all day, but I’d rather not.” Mistress remarks casually as she brings the unforgiving leather strip down on your abused ass. She’s given you two reprieves where she healed and petted you, letting you know that she’s not out to actually hurt you. But it’s hard when the belt strikes and your legs quiver and drop for all of maybe a second before you correct yourself. Mistress sighs and punishes you with four consecutive hits before stopping. “Let’s stop for now, we’ll continue tom—”

“No!” Mistress looks at you like you grew a second head. “I-I can do it. I just need a second. I need to think…”

Mistress pats your head, “Well, that’s the worst thing you can do. Over thinking it will just tire you out. What you need to do is ‘feel’.”

“I feel plenty.” You mumble.

Mistress chuckles and shakes her head, “Well, think of it as not absorbing the hit solely through your ass, but try to redirect it into your whole body. You can arch your back and clench your hands; the only thing I want is for your ass to be an easy and willing target. Are you sure you want to continue?” You nod petulantly and stick your ass up higher before flinching from the sudden stretch of sore skin. “Maybe we should start fresh.”

A quick Aura treatment later and you are ready with your new resolve. She taps your ass twice with the now cool belt and rears back, giving you an easy smack. It’s a start, and you breathe calmly, clearing your mind. The beginning lovetaps are easy enough to stay still through and you focus on taking the small impacts and imagining them not hitting a wall of sorts, but starting soft waves that send the prickling sensation of pain up your spine and down to your toes.    

Over and over you breathe and keep up the visual, letting every other part of your body move, expressing the pain and sting from the belt that came down harder and harder. You grunt and groan, clench the sheets, and curl your toes deep into the carpet. Distantly you can feel Mistress increasing the strength and speed of her lashes, and her proud chuckle when she comes to the line of how much roughness you could handle.

The tipping point, that delicate line of yours that marked the transition of playful roughness and actual intolerable pain; somehow Mistress saw the then line, maybe it was telegraphed in your body language, or maybe you sounded different, but she brushes against it and then stops her strikes.

Your body relaxes and the extreme mental concentration loses grip, without that to focus on, you are finally aware of the severity of your beaten ass. God, it hurts. Every pump of your heart can be felt way too much, and it burns. Mistress quietly shushes your whimpers rubbing your back and guiding you properly onto the nice, soft bed, “Good girl! _Good_ girl! You did such a great job. You took the spanking and didn’t move an inch. See? My little Princess is getting closer and closer to being fully domesticated.” The happy whimper at the statement makes Mistress smile.

Slowly she brushes her finger pads over the red skin, and when you don’t immediately cry out, she goes to get the aftercare kit. Next thing you know, a cool, comforting peace washes over you when the special lotion makes contact with bruised cheeks. Then, a little hum vibrates throughout your body, a sure sign of Mistress using her aura to carefully and completely wipe away the pain.

This whole process lasts for almost ten minutes you think, which is a shame, but being cradled in Mistress’ arms and carried out to your fluffy pet bed and sitting pain-free is just as nice.

Mistress looks out the window and the start of dusk starting to turn the world into shades of orange, “I think an early dinner would be good. You’re going to need energy and time for this next part.”

…A sinking feeling settles in your gut and all you can do is think _‘This does not bode well for me, does it?’_

* * *

It’s time to take on the next challenge.

You’re ready!

Kinda…

It’s a long shot, but you think that staying positive will help. You sit in the middle of the living room, waiting for Mistress to come out from the playroom. When she rounds the corner, she sets a plastic bag down before stepping in front of it, blocking your view. But it’s that smug look sets off all sorts of warning bells.

“Tell me Princess, what makes a slut, a slut?”

Yep. Ringing loud, and clear.

“…They’re horny all the time?”

“Go on.” Mistress’ eyes flash and she doesn’t even try to hide her smirk that steadily is spreading into a sadistic grin.

“A slut will sleep with anyone?” She motions with her hand for you to continue, “…And they always want more?”

“Well said. Now, what do those traits have in common?”

It takes a moment to think through your answer, “They…aren’t sated?”

“Correct! A slut is greedy and desperate and will take any cock or pussy they can get. And they _love_ it.”

You fidget from your seat on the floor, “I see…but, what exactly does that have to do with me?”

“Silly girl,” She ruffles your hair, “ _You’re_ a slut. But you just want to hide it all the time. We’ve got to get you to be honest with yourself; otherwise, you’ll never get fully in touch with your breeding instincts!”

“H-huh? But I’m not a—! What do you mean?”

She laughs “ _Yes_ you are a slut. Breeding instincts are those little feelings in your head that tell you to fuck. The ones that want to make yourself irresistible and attract mates. The ones that wanted me to touch you through bribing me, and then begging for release after sucking cock—and sucking it quite well, despite it being your first time.” You wordlessly flap your mouth and blush, trying to find a way to deny the accusations but… “Your breeding instincts are there, right under the surface. All you have to do is find a way to embrace them.” Mistress taps your sternum and then angles your head up with her fingers. “And I know just how to do that.”

“H-how?”

Mistress smirks.

“I’m going to make you very, very desperate.”

_…Shit_

Mistress smiles at how pale you’ve gotten, and then she turns to the bag she set down and pulls out its contents.

It looks like a normal strap-on harness with a clear glass dildo that’s textured with tiny bumps up and down the length. The toy tapered into sections before growing again, creating the illusion that it’s made of six glass spheres stacked on one another. At the very bottom, there was an inch of rubber covering something, probably where the toy and harness are connected.

Mistress lets you get a good look at it before setting it down in front of you, “Go on and sit, girl.” You look between it and the grinning faunus before slowly approaching it and angling yourself above the head. Gradually lowering your hips, you take the toy into yourself, gasping as the spheres spread your walls. You breathe a sigh of relief as soon as you finally sit on the floor with the toy firmly imbedded in you. Mistress smirks and kneels down to strap you into the reverse harness.

There…seem to be a lot of buckles and buttons on this thing.

Once you are tightly held by straps, Mistress points a few feet off to the side. Of course you move to sit where she wants but when you raise up on all fours, you have to swallow a gasp since the toy rubbed up against you rather nicely. You don’t let yourself be distracted and move to the ordered spot before sitting down and swallowing another groan. The faunus merely chuckles, observing your movements to see if anything is loose, she points to another place, further out this time and the same happens, only this time walking there swings the toy slightly enough to rub your insides some more. This time a few whimpers escape you when you finally sit down.

“Good, good. It’s on correctly. Now…let’s see how you handle this.” Before you can ask, Mistress takes out a small fob and clicks the button. It activates the hidden motor in the toy and sends it vibrating deep within you. The long, drawn-out moan is near impossible to muffle when you toss your head back in surprise. She’s hardly touched you lately, the previous orgasm only leaving you wanting more, plus you were still turned on and a bit sensitive from Mistress’ attention on your ass. From the lack of intimate touch to sudden, powerful sensation, your body slumped and you eventually were left to writhe on the floor.

Your owner sits down on the couch and watches you arch and buck against air. Your eyes flutter shut as the toy takes you further under its spell, but you can still sense the intense, self-indulgent and cocky grin coming from Mistress.

The toy is wreaking havoc and your poor, neglected pussy is happily taking the brunt of it. It’s been so long since you’ve last had a nice thick, long toy in you. The bumps massage and tease your walls into clamping down on the vibrator more and more, tighter and tighter; squeezing every bit of intensity you could get out of it. Your body is already red from the building pleasure, and you can feel your toes curl in appreciation, ivory locks are tossed left and right while you shake your head trying to keep up with the strength of the buzzing pulsing through every worked-over muscle and nerve.

Mistress hums happily at the little coos and gasps that have only been steadily getting louder and deeper, “Enjoying yourself?” You can barely answer; instead you can only flip over onto your stomach and nod furiously as you grip the soft carpet. “Go on and cum, if you feel like it.”

Somewhere in the back of your rational mind, a flag is thrown up but you’re too busy moaning and moving your hips.

You’re close. Real close. All you need is just that little bit more to tip you over the edge; that last intense brush of lightning against your senses.

_Come on, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Just—!_

The gap between your legs needs to be filled, something solid, so when Mistress throws a pillow your way, you are just a bit hesitant before jumping on it and grinding your hips on the edge.

_Harder! Harder! Harder! Damnit! This isn’t enough!_

You press down, trying to grind your clit into the very seams of the fabric when something occurs to you.

The harness is blocking you from getting at it. In fact, the harness is keeping the toy in pretty tightly, enough that it doesn’t really move. Offhandedly you wonder if your face can pale when you’ve already worked yourself up so much.

In one last bid you walk around on all fours shakily, and the low panic that you’ve been ignoring up until now surges through you.

No matter what you do, you’ve hit a wall. You’re being kept at a plateau, close enough to see the goal but too far to walk through it.

The toy is keeping you high, but you can’t cum!

Your panicky realization must show on your face because Mistress laughs hard, “Figure it out?”

You quickly go to her seat and put your face on her knees, trying to look cute, “Please, please can you turn it up higher?” You try your best to look as cute as can be, but your face twitches and your eyes flutter as a wave of fruitless pleasure rolls through you.

Again the faunus chuckles and pets you on the head, “I would if I could, baby girl.” She takes the remote control from her pocket and presents it to reveal the pushed in button signifying ‘high’.

“That’s as high as it’ll go!?” Your voice cracks.

Relaxed as if she were at the beach, Mistress shrugs and easily says, “Unfortunately.”

Her shit-eating grin obviously reveals just how heartbroken she is over the whole thing. Plus, you know that’s also how sympathetic she is to your plight.

Quickly, you push off and run back and forth, trying to get as much movement as possible to maybe jerk the toy around, with all those pleasure bumps they’ll have to rub on you right? You roll on the ground and grind unhelpfully into the floor and on the couch, they move, but it’s so shallow that you’ll tire yourself out before getting the requisite amount of stimulation to get off. You plead with Mistress, both with your eyes and with your voice, “Please! P-please do something—ah!—Mistress! _Mmgh_! I can’t get there myself!” She elects to not answer. Instead she takes in the view of you slowly losing your sanity, when all you want is just to cum! Not to be stuck, but to proceed forward and finish! That’s not too much to ask is it?

It’s when you’ve tossed your pride and started to rut the couch that a force yanks your collar until you are lying on your stomach and a hand on your back keeps you moderately still from your squirming. The hand from your collar raises and pats you on the head, “Stay.” Your heart almost stops because staying still is the last thing you want to do, then it sinks when Mistress pulls away and heads into the playroom.

You’re so doomed.

_Clang! Krr-chack-kaa-click!_

The sound of metal shivering and wheels rolling manages to shock you into stillness, petrified by what you know is coming next.

Mistress gives a final grunt as she wheels the cage in the living room on the left wall. She smiles and turns slowly towards you, smiling up a storm in the most evil way you’ve ever seen anybody achieve—and you work with shifty businessmen most every day!

The faunus undoes the lock to the door and opens it, gesturing for you to get in.

Scared at the possibilities you stay low to the ground and minutely shake your head. “Princess.” Mistress says in slight annoyance as she points to the cage again. Again you stay where you are, a nice safe 8ft from the cage, in fact you try to make it safer and back up slowly, “I’m not going to tell you again.” She growls between grit teeth and a sharp snarl, marking the end of her patience. You sigh and like a good pet you go to the cage. Slowly. Inch by inch, stalling as much as you can.

When you aren’t moving quickly enough for Mistress’ tastes she marches over and manhandles you into a hold where you feel like luggage. One arm is securely holding your waist as she stands and the other on your collar. She carries you over like you weigh nothing, and with one smooth move she roughly guides you into the cage, making sure you’re all the way in before quickly closing the door and trapping you within.

“Now, you stay right there Princess, I don’t want an unruly feral running around the house.”

“But! But!” You whine, partially because of the circumstances you’ve found yourself in, and partially because the toy is keeping you high and buzzing with pleasure, more so after being handled like that—it just sent a blazing heat to your core and it clamped down harder on the incessant torture device.

“No buts. You’re going to stay in there for a long while.” She gives the mischievous Cheshire cat grin again, “Remember earlier when I said you’d regret making you cum?” Slowly you nod, “Well because of that, you’ve added an extra 30 minutes of time with that lovely harness.”

_Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!_

Her deep chuckle is the last thing she says before ignoring your cries of rejection and sits down to watch a video on the private scroll.

* * *

You’ve been on this plateau for hours, meticulously kept from ascending any higher, like you’re laying down and staring at the door on the ceiling, the doorknob is _just_ beyond your reach and you can’t move or do anything about it.

Your fingers have found a home gripping onto the metal mesh of the cage, warming the normally cool links with sweaty palms and hard breaths, your hot forehead is resting on the metal, powerless and defeated. There wasn’t even enough room to attempt to force the toy to move in you, the only thing that accomplishes is banging against the walls.

It’s enough to drive you mad.

And Mistress certainly wasn’t helping. Not only did she not touch you, or even acknowledge your moans and pleas, the only thing she did differently is that she change her choice of media from regular videos to obvious porn. The volume turned up loud enough to allow you to hear the almost obnoxious sounds of the women moaning in pleasure from across the room. Damn your body for reacting so strongly to it! You’re moaning in delightful agony right along with them. Mistress caught your eye and smirked as her hand unbuttoned her pants and dipped under her waistband.

God, that first breathy sigh…

“Mistress…” You whine, completely unable to handle her masturbating in front of you. This damn toy! You don’t know whether you just want it off, or if you want it to magically work harder and bring you to the edge instead of merely looking over it from a short, infuriating distance. The cage shakes a bit as you grip it even harder, digging the metal into your skin, you look up and you see Mistress’ thumb swiftly changing her fantasy fodder. From the back, you manage to make out a folder that she double taps and there’s an almost familiar pink pussy on the screen. As she switches pictures and her hand moves faster, you start to recognize that those are the photo she’s been taking of you from the start of your training!

Mistress grunts and arches her back, and it causes you to mirror her. Every desperate buck of her hips to get more is matched by your own futile rocking. Her amber orbs flick over to look you straight in the eye, and she smirks before her bright eyes close and she stiffens. She shakes and gasps before her body melts right into the couch.

She smirks at you and it’s so unfair.

Mistress stands up and crosses the room and you sit up and whine in hopes to appeal to her. She flashes that evil, no-good predatory grin and crouches down. “How badly do you want to be fucked?”

 _“Please! I need it!”_ You practically wail.

“Do you want to cum?”

 _“Yes! Yes! Mistress I can’t take it anymore!”_ Your mind feels so foggy, the possibility of cumming after enduring so much is bringing out something in you, something ugly yet surprisingly natural. Your mind is single-mindedly focused on Mistress and the thought of falling off that elusive precipice. You body aches and clutches the toy in you harder, to the point where it’s possible the spheres that decorated the phallus might leaving long-lasting imprints.

“Are you a slut?”

“ **Yes!** I’m a slut, so please! Please! Let me out of here! Fuck me, Mistress! I want it! I need it!” Your pleas keep tumbling out from your mouth, you can’t stop it, and you can’t be bothered to feel the least bit ashamed over it.

 _“Just_ what I wanted to hear. All that feral pride…out the window. You look like the perfect desperate pet. Domesticated and dependent.” Quicker than you can process, she’s undone the lock and has opened the door. You scramble out as quickly as possible, but you pause two thirds of the way out because the toy rubbed up against your walls and made you flinch. Mistress takes advantage of this and grabs you up, putting you in the middle of the living room floor. The first buckle is unclasped and you start to wiggle excitedly. Your Owner holds you still with a hand pulling at the back of your collar and dragging you up so you’re on your hands and knees, back perfectly arched and ass up high in the air.

It takes every small scrap of focus you had left in your lust addled brain to hold still because each undone buckle is another chain that once held you back, breaking into pieces.

Finally, the harness is completely loose and off your hips! You mewl happily and buck your hips. You feel Mistress slowly pull on the still vibrating torture device, those studs caress your walls and even your excitement can’t keep your oversensitive body up. Your elbows buckle, but Mistress lets you down gently before moving her grip so that she’s holding you down by the back of the neck.

Arousal has already made you so wet that the creases of your legs have been soaked, but the dildo seems to have acted as a plug because now your desperate nectar is pouring down your thighs if not simply dripping to the floor.

You can’t find it in yourself to give a damn about your mess. For some reason, you can’t think of a reason to be any at all embarrassed over it.

What does it matter?

Did it mean something to you before?

You can’t think because the thought of cumming is so all-consuming.

So you’re a mess, so what? It just shows Mistress how badly you need it, how successfully she’s teased her pet, and how ready you are for her to wreck you completely and utterly.

“Oh dear, maybe I was a little hard on you,” Mistress absently muses, “Allow me to make it up to you, baby girl.” The very tip placed so mere millimeters are in…and then she _slams_ it into you at a shocking pace. Every bit of air in your lungs is quickly expelled in a thankful, exhilarated scream. Mistress is merciless, which is everything you’ve ever wanted in the past hours. Fireworks are exploding every time you close your eyes, and when they’re open, the edges are so blurred. Your heart is beating so fast, the blood is pulsing loudly in your ears and it nearly drowns out your wails of pleasure.

Your hips are matching Mistress’ pace, fueled by pent-up desperation, otherwise every other part of your body is going haywire. You’re shaking and practically thrashing, begging for more and more and more. The faunus puts her muscular frame to the test by holding you down with her forearm  so she can fuck you even harder with the wicked toy in her other hand.

“Are you a slut, baby girl?” She yells over you.

“ _Yes!_ I’m a slut!”

“Are you my slut?”

“Yours! Only yours!”

“Do you love it when I fuck you?” She twists the toy within, causing you to keen.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Are you a good girl? Are you my good pet?”

“Mhm! I am! I am! I’m a good girl! I’m a good pet! I’m the perfect pet! Your pet!”

Mistress puts her weight over your back and whispers into your ear, “Then come for me, pet.”

Salvation arrives with a high pitched screaming of Mistress’ title.

Your body feels so good and your eyes roll back and everything is nice and blurry and you could drown in the feeling, you could get lost in it, you could lose yourself completely…

Until it all falls away…

…

…There’s nothing but warmth and a wide expanse.

_When’s the last time I’ve felt this relaxed…? I feel so…light…free…_

It’s hard to think. Thoughts are jumbled and blurred, there but not there, as if they were translucent. You’re somewhat aware that you can’t feel your body—at least, not correctly it seems…like your consciousness is there but not there.

…Is someone talking to you?

…It’s warm…

Soft…

…Safe…

* * *

_What’s going on?_

It takes you a long while but you recognize the ceiling of the bedroom lit somewhat by a nightlight on the wall to the left of you. Through tremendous effort, you manage to turn your head and look around with weary eyes. You’ve been lovingly placed in your pet bed and you’re snugly tucked in a fluffy throw blanket. It’s so soft and feels really nice. When you snuggle in a little more you finally notice that you feel…clean.

All wetness has been wiped away and you’ve been given a bath. Under the covers you realize you’re completely naked besides your tail, and your long fur and scalp, while not wet, feels warm like the hair dryer has been used on it.

You reach up with your paw and feel that your ears are in place. _Ugh, I feel so tingly…_

Slowly, you get up; everything simultaneously aches and feels nice, but definitely tired across the board. It’s dark outside, it was just after dusk when you were released from the cage…how long have you been out?

A glance at the clock tells you it’s nearly 9 o’ clock!

Wow. You think back to the white realm you were in—you already wish you were back in it—but you swear you were there for maybe five minutes. Or at least it felt that way.

Beside the clock is a water bottle with ice in it, making you realize how thirsty you are.

According to the clock it takes you four minutes to wobble over and grab it, using both paws to ease it into your mouth for big greedy gulps until only a third of the bottle is left.

“Where’s Mistress?” you grab your throat because your voice is so cracked and sore. Yikes.

The door to the room is open a tad, letting in light to the dim room. Slowly, moving one paw in front of the other, you shuffle to the entrance. As you pass your bed you notice a wayward squeakie ball. You can’t help yourself and you bite it with your fangs and hold it aloft in your mouth as you exit.

As you expected, Mistress is in the living room. Her head is visible from the back of the couch. You try to make it to the corner, you really do! But your body is still a little wobbly, so you bite harder on the squeakie twice and the resulting noise gets Mistress’ attention.

“Ah, Princess! You’re awake!” You nod and put the ball down, wagging your tail weakly. The faunus smiles, “Want me to pick you up?”

“Would you please, Mistress?”

She gets up and comes into the hallway, “Up you go!” Almost effortlessly she picks you up and holds you in her arms as she lightly rocks you back and forth before sitting back on the couch with you firmly in her lap. Instantly you snuggle into her, mewling happily.

Mistress gives you a strange look, “Is something wrong, Mistress?” You tip your head.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Baby girl.” She pets your head, which you happily lean into. “I’m so proud of you. You reached subspace. You were out for awhile though, you kind of scared me.”

“Sorry…” you mumble but she shakes her head and kisses your forehead. “Do you mean that white place?”

“It was white to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Was it empty?”

“Mm-hm.” She rubs your tummy.

“Did you like being there?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

“A lot?” She giggles a bit.

“Mm-hm! A whole lot!”

She laughs again and kisses you sweetly on the lips, “Well then, I guess I’ll have to take you there as much as I can.”

You perk up and wag your tail, “Really!?”

“Yes, really.”

You chirp happily and nuzzle her neck, “That makes me really happy…I can’t wait for next time!” breathing in her scent, you start to relax and your exhaustion catches up with you again. You yawn, “Love you, Mistress…”

Mistress is silent for a moment and you feel her tail stand up for some reason. She chuckles quietly, “I love you too, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The next chapter to your favorite sinful series. This time I’d like to give thanks to smolscribbs for being my beta and making sure that my many typos have been worked out. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Plug Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really edited, probs a lot of issues because I ended up cutting huge chunks of it out, but boy, I'm tired of having this in my wips. So take it

The sensation of fingers threading through your fur is the first thing your consciousness registers before a pair of warm lips press themselves to your forehead. "Wake up, Princess." Slowly, your eyes open and the blurry image of your smiling Mistress clears. Tugging lightly at her shirt brings her close enough to lazily kiss, drawing out a contented hum from you and a small laugh from her. "You know what today is, baby girl?"

Immediately all the morning fog in your head is gone as you jump out of your pet bed and hugged her tightly, "The day you stay home!"

"Yes, no more half-days for the rest of the week, just you, me, and the rest of your lessons. Now go on and get all prettied up and I'll make you something delicious." She pulls closer and whispers in your ear, her grin threatening to split her face, "Because today, you're gonna service me like a good girl."

She departs, and as was coming all too familiar, left a burning in your lower stomach. You were hungry, but not for breakfast.

Distracting yourself was the only thing you could do, so you set about finding a nice outfit to please her. After some searching, a nice, black, lacy Capri thong trimmed with an eyelash edge lace. The design in the front flirted with being see-through, and the panties hugged your hips tightly. Next was a barely there white strapless bra with black lace swirls, that unhooked in the front and still pushed up your breasts and gave a nice bit of cleavage.

To tie it all together, some white straps that can clasp right onto your underwear and lead to your stockings when you slip them on, but first things first...

The biggest question: What kind of pet do you want to be today. After some deliberation, you decide that being a white rabbit fit you perfectly. One of your ears are bent slightly forward, giving you a cute, timid appearance, but like all bunnies, you were quite ready to breed anytime. With the addition of a soft blue collar with white lace at the top and bottom and white cuffs on your ankle and wrists, you were almost ready to take on all your lessons with Mistress.

On all fours, you stretched and sauntered to the hall, leisurely swinging your hips and smiling innocently at Mistress as you went to the playroom to retrieve the proper tail.

Judging from the slow up and down Mistress gave you, she very much approved. Once the bunny tail was found and attached, you happily waited for Mistress to finish plating your breakfast into your shining food bowl. Rice pudding with some raisins and fruit preservatives poured on top, a nutritious meal that was easy to eat without the help of your paws.

As you eat, you couldn't help but be aware of the feel of Mistress' burning gaze tracing over your body, leading to you glancing back.

Her face is intense and her grin wide, showing off her impressive canines.

When you lick your lips to get every bit of the food from your lips, the small movement catches golden eyes and they follow your tongue.

It's at this moment that you wonder if being a bunny was a mistake.

 

* * *

 

After Mistress is done cleaning up breakfast, you wait on the pet bed, ready to entertain--and maybe trying to make the fact that her obvious, unrestrained staring has had quite the effect on you. It'd be a shame to have to change underwear when you've barely been up an hour.

"Baby girl." Mistress calls, tail slowly flicking back in forth. She sits on the couch and pats her lap, instantly guiding you to straddle her lap. The Faunus' hands rub up and down your sides, she leans in for a kiss and you let her take the lead, moaning when her teeth nibble on your lip.

She robs you of all your breath and the soft touches already have you hot. It's when her tail wrap around your wrists gripping onto her shirt that she goes for your neck. Your hips grind without your conscience effort, it only makes Mistress chuckle and her hands wander, grabbing at your ass and brushing the underside of your breast.

Each whimper follows each bite until you are left with two collars. One of leather and the other of red, marked skin. "Now that you're all warmed up, how about you help your Mistress?" Numbly nodding, it's easy see your own lust reflected in the Faunus'. She leans back a little and wiggles her ears, "Princess have you ever heard of Ear-jobs and Tail-jobs?"

"N-no, but I can imagine the broad strokes."

She unwraps her tail from your hands and gently guides them to her ears, "Gently now, play with the tips a little, and you can use your mouth." Mistress purrs her instructions while you tentatively rub and lightly scratch at her ears. The purrs that started low in her throat increasing get louder with each gentle movement. The tips of her ears seem to be especially sensitive, and when you pass your fingertips over them she holds you tighter and growls in appreciation. Deciding to ramp it up a little, you trace the line between the fur and the inner ear's pink membrane, her reaction is intense as her nails dig in and she hisses into your shoulder, "Again." She demands. You comply, but this you do it a little harder, and judging by how you rise up from her knees lifting, her toes must have curled.

"You're so sensitive, Mistress." You whisper right into her ear, and the Faunus groans again, wrapping her shivering tail around your leg. Pressing on the back of her ears gets a shiver and a slightly rough rasps at your neck, making you coo.

Mistress' low moan in response spurs you into action. You curiously mouth softly on her left ear drawing out curses from the usually reserved Faunus. A little suck and pull is what causes a guttural moan and roaming hands. You try pressing, scratching, and teething, experimenting with pressures until Mistress and practically locks up and growls low into your skin, "Good girl."

Oh, now if that wasn't a nice sound.

Before you can preen, her roaming hands find your clit through your lingerie, cutting off your words in a choked moan. Ever so slowly she circles the sensitive nub, allowing you to continue, but damn if it doesn't distract you, sending shocks to your lower belly until you shiver and whimper.

The hand not currently rendering you speechless grabs your  left wrist and leads your paw to her tail, "R-remember how you teased the cock yesterday?" You nod and suck her ear again, massaging where ears meet the scalp, getting a loud purr. It takes a moment to collect your thoughts but you do reach for her tail and slowly pull it from your leg and begin to caress it up and down, taking your time whilst gently gnawing on Mistress' sensitive ears.

The Faunus groans again and grabs your ass roughly, a pain that is diluted by her other hand working double time on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure rushing up and down your spine, through your nerves, all to your brain, culminating in a shocked cry. Mistress rolls her own hips as a silent reminder, and despite how jerky your motions must be you continue up and down until her whole tail is curling into your tight grasp. Harsh breaths are coming from both of you, sweat is building on Mistress' brow and the pretty thong was soaked through to the point that she needn't even bother slipping under it, you could feel just as well if the damned thing was off. You're moaning right into her feline ears and judging by the enthusiasm being unleashed on your clit, that's not a bad thing. 

The heat rolling off Mistress is reaching it's peak and with a combination of a low moan, sucking on the tip of her ears and massaging the base of her tail, the Faunus stiffens and tightens her grip on your ass. She hisses and bucks a bit but is otherwise restrained.

Suddenly Mistress seems to turn to putty while drawing you closer to a much looser embrace, her fingers that had stopped your clit lazily trace it again and her other hand combs through your fur. The change in tempo and intensity does nothing to cool the tight spring in your stomach though, "Good girl. Good, little, slutty, Princess."

And the low growl of a post-orgasm Mistress praising you is _not helping either._

You grind on her hand, "M-Mistress..."

"You're such a natural, baby girl. Servicing me like you've been doing it your whole life." Her nails lightly scratch at your all-too-hot body. "Why...I think you deserve a little something for such a good performance."

"R-really?" You look up at her with wide eyes.

"Mmm, but you've tuckered me all out..." She hums in thought. At the same time her finger has moved to teasing your entrance by pushing against the barely there fabric, she's _almost_ in and it takes everything to not whine. She looks deep in thought for a little longer all while pushing ineffectually at your lingerie, making you whimper with every second.

You bite your lip and can't stand it too much longer moving your hips down for her, "I-I can do it on my own...and you can watch...?" you suggest.

Slowly those burning golden eyes return to your impatient and pleading expression, "Even if I want to watch up close and personal?" You nod your head and grind down, silently begging for just a little more friction. Mistress' smirk sends chills up your spine, "That can be arranged." She points to the floor and while you are loathe to separate, you sit obediently and watch her disappear into the playroom, tail swaying. You hear a lot of rummaging around but you are focusing on rubbing your thighs together to soothe the denied ache.

When Mistress returns, she's changed into some boy shorts and over them is a black leather harness holding a long, bumpy dildo in place. All excited squirming stops all at once at the raised eyebrow, but most of your attention is on the cock calling to you like a beacon. It's strange how close to drooling you were a moment ago but the sight of the girthy toy has made your mouth utterly dry.

"Baby girl, I think it's time for a ride. Take off your panties." They're already on the ground by the time she finishes. Mistress struts on over and grabs a pillow, propping it up on the couch and puts her back to it, relaxing with an audible sigh. The Faunus pats her lap, beckoning you over. Immediately you straddle her, the tall toy in front of you rests on your stomach as you wait. "Good girl, no jumping ahead." She idly draws two fingers through your folds, examining what's there in the light before chuckling and lathering the toy with it, "So wet... seems lube is unnecessary. Alright, get on. But slowly, I want to see you take my cock inch by inch."

"Yes, Mistress." You lick you lips and rise on your haunches, she holds it in place and watches with rapt attention as you slowly and smoothly slip the bulbous head into your pussy with no resistance, just an urge for more of that addictive stretch. Mistress whispers her encouragement as you put your paws on her shoulders for balance and lower yourself. A few more inches and you have to pause, the throbbing of your gluttonous pussy is practically crushing the toy in its warmth. A few gasps later and you continue, shivering with every bump and slow stretch as the toy gets larger at the base.

Before long, you're completely sitting on Mistress' cock, already next to cumming. Warm hands run up your sides, calming you a little while you're fighting for breath and trying not to drool. It's been way too long since you've had any penetration like this, Mistress is truly giving you a treat for such excellent service. "You good, baby girl?" You nod, not trusting your shaky voice, "Good. Now move those hips of yours and ease yourself up and down." Easier said than done, with your legs being as uncooperative as they are, but you power through the tremors and move upwards, arching your back and angling your hips at the same time. A shuddering gasp makes it's way out without contest when you get to the halfway point, and upon letting your legs go limp you slam back onto the cock and groan inelegantly. It's hitting you so deep that your lip might just get bitten off if this keeps up. Mistress only chuckles, "Keep doing that and you'll hurt yourself. What you need to do is to bounce on it. Keep a near constant motion."

Honestly it's a little hard to focus, but the pleasant fog in your head acts like a motivator and you're able to lift up again and actually try to control your descent a little more, rolling into it and shuddering as you manipulate the head to graze that sweet spot within you. Each time prompts another gasp and you hold on tight to Mistress who's watching you eagerly, a nigh-permanent smirk on her face and hungry eyes feasting on your every move. Before long the sensuous movements become instinct and every thrust can be achieved faster and faster.

Mistress props up her knees, "Baby girl lean back a little, put your hands on my knees." Easier said than done when your head's a mess, but the new angle not only hits the sweet spot much easier but the movement puts you on further display for Mistress, who coos to you about how good you're doing, how pretty you look getting fucked, how _desperate_ you are to be filled.

The strain and shakiness in your legs are rendered unimportant and even with every scream, for some reason the smooth voice fills up your head, mixing with the fog of pleasure. It tells you to surrender to it, let it _have_ you, it promises compensation for good behavior. Just please the voice, be as slutty as you want to be, put on a good show like the pretty piece of entertainment you are.

The room is filled with your moans and cries, and you can tell the edge is fast approaching, that's when Mistress says "Stop." The whine you make is damn near a sob but you follow her order, holding yourself up halfway down the shaft, and it's hard to tell if it's shaking under you because of the your shaking legs or if your pussy is just that desperate. Catching your breath and pleading Mistress with your eyes is all you really can do at this point. "Don't fret, baby girl, I'll let you cum. I just want to try something. You just look so good..." Her hand trailing down your side is like sparks to your heated, over-sensitive skin, "I just want to be...a little _indulgent_." Suddenly she takes your hips and pushes you down, grinding you into her and your spine becomes jelly, falling into the chuckling Faunus with a sharp whine. "I haven't told you about my semblance yet, have I?"

Now this peaks your interest.

Upon shaking your head, Mistress caressed your body, her hands go to your back primarily, but every once in awhile she'll rub your clit and where the two of you are connected, moving it a bit within you, "You see, I can create shadow clones and if I focus enough, I can make them solid, even "share" in their experiences a little." There's a whole lot that runs through your mind, and you can feel your cheeks get real red. "I take it you're interested." With your nod, Mistress gains a thin dark purple aura about her that throbs for a moment before the number of hands on you suddenly double. A look behind you shows another Mistress, grinning and squeezing your ass, you also notice that the clone is armed with a strap-on too.

The clone gently lifts you off Mistress' cock only to sink you on to its copy, proving that yes, it is just as "real" and the cock feels just as good as the other, notably drier, though. Doesn't matter since you are still soaked and the warbling shout gains a double chuckle from the two Mistresses. The original stands up, and in the light you are able to see just how wet you were, the silicone shines brightly with your arousal and goes all the way to the belt. Mistress holds the gleaming toy in front of your face, "Go on and finish, but you should always try to clean up after yourself."

The words 'Oral fixation' come to mind but anything further is decimated by a playful grind from the clone. The only thing you can do is say "Yes, Mistress."

Her cock slips in your mouth like it belongs there, and despite the burning from your legs, the drive to appease your Owner and yourself is stronger.

Trying to claim more and more of the surprisingly sweet flavor of the original's shaft leaves you feeling a bit empty down below so you compensate, but lose more of the taste for that full feeling. But neglecting to do the task forces you up, grinding against your throbbing insides until you come back down for more.

It's the euphoric vicious cycle that's easy to fall victim to. Like a real bunny, you bounce up and down, trapped between having not enough of either. Mistress pets you with every rise and the clone praises you for every fall.

While some would say a throat-full of delicious cock is a good gag, it just fails to contain the screams you make. The clone practically croons in your ear, "We love hearing you scream, baby girl. Go on, I know you can be louder, _greedier_ , don't you want my dick in you? I can't tell if you're so _quiet_. There you go, good girl! Good slut! Perfect...you look so good riding me, go on! Fuck me like you mean it! Harder."

Meanwhile Mistress is beckoning in her own way, " _Every_ inch, Princess. I want it to gleam in the dull moonlight when you're done. Get the belt too. My pretty Princess is just so sloppy when she rides dick, huh? Good girl, use your tongue just like that! Again! Do you like the taste of yourself on me? Is it your favorite? A perfect combination. Such a _slutty_ , perfect girl. I have quite the view of how desperate you are, you'd be just as happy fucking and sucking the night away."

They both grin while they tease you, "What's wrong, pretty Princess? Have to come?"

A long, _desperate_ moan and grind of your hips follows the tears building up in your eyes. It's so much. It's so, so much, you're greedy for it and want more but your body can't handle it.

The best torture is oftentimes just knowing you have to stop.

"Go on, Princess. Let me see you cum."

Dual voices are the last thing you hear before everything goes fuzzy.

 

* * *

 

A low hum echoes in your ears as consciousness seeps back into you. It takes a long moment but the soft, warmth still emanating from the bottom of your stomach gives way enough for little details. The cityscape, the setting sun, the comfy feeling supporting you from below, the sturdy fabric walls at the edges of clearing vision--you're in the living room, on the pet bed, completely naked except for your collar. Trying to move incites protest from your lower body, leading to an uneven groan that has you reaching for your also sore throat.

Mistress seems to slowly materialize from thin air, armed with a sweating water bottle and a few cough drops, "Don't try to speak right away, ok? I'm going to sit you up, stop me if you're uncomfortable." She's as gentle as her voice moving you like you weigh nothing. It isn't until the cool water bottle hits your lips that you realize how parched you are. "Easy there, little bunny don't drink too fast. Little sips. Good." Only after the bottle is halfway empty do you pull away to receive a cherry-flavored cough drop.

Mistress waits a while before asking you questions, "How do you feel?"

"A little tired, tingly, but good." Your voice is honestly a few octaves too low, but not as scratchy. "Did I pass out again?"

The Faunus smiles gently and scratches behind your ears, "Yeah. Not as long as your first time, but you still definitely went into sub-space." Leaning into her touch leads to putting your head in her lap, letting her pet your bare side. "Are you feeling up to anything else later?"

You crack open an eye, "Maybe after a movie?" Mistress smiles and grabs the remote, switching on the TV and turning on Netflix.

 

* * *

 

The black pen in Mistress’ hands slowly moves down a list you can’t see the contents of, only pausing in its descent to check off items, or when Mistress looks up at you with an inquisitive hum. The black book has returned and is presumably opened to your training regimen, Mistress said she wanted to check something and left you in the living room, coming back after a moment and has been looking particularly pensive ever since.

After the sixth hum you finally ask, “Is there something wrong, Mistress?”

Her ear flicks, and yellow eyes fully level their gaze at you, obviously assessing you before speaking. “No, not at all. In fact we’re ahead of schedule.” You raise your chin, preening and grinning. She rolls her eyes a little but decides that a pat on the head is earned. “The only thing I need you to do now is to flush your system a bit and then we can move on to the final bit.

“Flush my system?”

The devious grin the Faunus answers you with stokes a bit of a fire in your loins, “Can’t do anal until you’re clean, you know.”

The words hang for a moment, then your cheer and prance rubbing against Mistress’ legs and wagging your tail a bit, because this means your real one will be in you, and you’ll have graduated completely!

Your enthusiasm makes Mistress giggle, “All right, all right, calm down.” You manage to, barely, still squirming a little in place. “Now this might be a bit unpleasant but it’s important, have you ever cleaned out your ass?”

It honestly isn’t the sexiest question but… “I may have.”

She looks surprised, “Oh, how long ago? And with what?”

“Well, the day we started, and with a controlled flow shower hose. I looked up the best ways to do so. It was...a little weird, but I thought it necessary.”

The Faunus sighed and shook her head, “So impatient.” She muttered fondly, she tells you to follow her and both head to the bathroom.

After some maintenance and a full clean, you are left naked while Mistress spreads out some of the larger towels on the ground of the playroom and digs in the large chest for those weird pillows that were bought on impulse. Mistress places one that looks like a ramp on the towel, “This is a position pillow, some might prefer to use regular pillows but they lose form and shape easily, these are made to handle the weight and force while keeping you angled for a more comfortable position or to allow for deeper penetration. They can be pretty handy for...longer sessions.” That mysterious smile she makes is almost as good as a promise. “Now lay belly down and relax.” She barely finishes before you’re already on the wedge and making final adjustments. Mistress pauses long enough to spread your legs a little more before standing up, “Okay, now, this’ll be just like your spanking training Princess, we’re gonna escalate bit by bit.” She goes to the bed and pull out the bottom drawer, pulling out a few dental dams, finger condoms, and some squeeze bottle of lube. She settles in behind you and rips the wrapper for the dam but doesn’t take it out just yet.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t go for your ass just yet, but rather tests how wet your pussy is--which has been getting very much so in anticipation. Her thumb strokes the length of your slit, chuckling as you buck against it, her finger dips in brushing your spot before pulling out quickly , shocking you and after a strangled moan, you slump on the pillow.

“There, nice and relaxed.” Her comment is met with a whine. “If you want me to take the dam off, or want to stop, just tell me.”

The Faunus takes the dam and places it over your asshole. Still, she doesn’t immediately does anything to your rear entrance, instead she massages and caresses your cheeks, spreading them and you are suddenly clued into the fact that you are going to be stuck here for the long game, she is going to tease and take her time.

When she finally gets close she decides to dip into your slit, rolling twice around your clit and moving up, slipping momentarily into your entrance, trying her best not to laugh when you clench down to keep her in. But really, how can she not expect you to? Smirk aside, she travels once more, making your body tingle as she passes the space in between your pussy and ass. Mischievously she sucked there, startling a yelp out of you and it sends your spine arching as the tingles morph into full out pleasant shocks. It wasn’t bad by any means but the stimulation was almost too much, when you settle back down, the wedge pillow allows you to be totally aware of how hard your clit is.

The dental dam dulls the sensation just enough to bring it back to tolerable levels, but it can only do so much when that sweet, damnable tongue works its magic. Mistress curls around your back entrance, slowly spread you further before delivering a hard, long lick right across it, bringing about a startled cry. The faunus pauses for a second to gauge your reaction before starting again, dip in more and more around the tight ring of muscle. But god, as good as it is, the feeling is intense and not enough all at the same time. Her ministrations riles you up so quickly, you begin to squirm. “Something wrong, Princess?” She _hums_ against you and a second passes while your brain reboots.

“N-no, just…” Looking back, golden eyes regard you with a burning lust and curiosity, like a prey marked as a next meal, “Please, Mistress, could you...do it without the dam?”

“Teased you too much?” She comments, eyes lighting up and even if you can’t see it, the curve of her smile is too easy to feel just before she rips off the barrier and feasts in earnest.

And god, that tongue just might be the death of you.

The arch of your back intensifies as you curse, pushing back and wordlessly signaling how deep you want her. Mistress is all too happy to just lap up everything and explore more and more, licking and interspersed suction insures the the carpet knows her title. The shocks and tingles dancing up your body clue you in that maybe you like this way more that you should, and when Mistress forces your ass down again to dig in deeper, the now-damp pillow confirms it.

Maybe a minute or two passes before the precipice is in sight, and just before you can get the words to ask permission out, Mistress’ hand wanders away from where her mouth has laid claim, and she stops for a few miserable seconds. When you look back she’s put on a finger condom with the help of a clone and eases in. With your ass proving to be gluttonous as your pussy the first inch gets in without issue, and the sturdier intruder spreads you nicely, making your legs weak, glad that the pillow is there because there’d be no way for you to hold yourself up at this point.

“Easy, easy, relax your muscles,” The faunus says once her finger travels past where her tongue could reach, getting stalled. “I’m gonna put a little lube in, it should be warm enough.” The finger doesn’t move a millimeter as she grabs the lube and the snap of the cap causes your neglected pussy to clench reflexively. A small dollop is felt around the entrance before Mistress pulls out slowly to gather it up and push back in, each tortuously slow thrust has you moaning and cooing. The promise of more pleasure allows you to relax your back muscle and lets her go a little faster, a little smoother, a little deeper until she’s finger fucking you at a good clip, finding all of the soft spots that arrest your breath or reduce you to a babbling puddle. “Will you cum if I put two in?”

“Yes, Mistress!” You gasp, brain to addled with pleasure to even think of modesty or lie.

“Do you want to stop?” The panicked look you throw over your shoulder has her laughing a little, “Words, Princess.” She twists her finger a little, making the world fuzz around the edges.

“Please, keep going!” You beg.

“So cute.” Mistress mutters before a clone appears and straddles you backwards to keep your cheeks wide, and holds you still. “Don’t move.” She warns as more lube is applied and another protected finger prods gently at your hole while the other resumes a slow pace, twisting a little to tease your entrance wider, and effortlessly the second joins the first. A hand gets close to your pussy, not quite touching, but you’re honestly surprised she doesn’t burn herself with how hot you must be running.

She takes her time, and if it weren’t for her announcing the third finger you’d be too lost to the sensation to even take notice. It’s just that right now, all attention is focused to staying loose and not cumming anytime Mistress crooks and twist her fingers.

It never occurred to you that anal would be so damn good.

When Mistress stops pistoning into you and pulls out, your brain is too scrambled to do more than whine gutturally. The Faunus spreads your cheeks out and hums, “I think it’s time. Your ass is gaping enough by now. I’ll be right back.” The finger rockets are removed and Mistress leaves, letting the cool air rob you of the pleasant buzz of the orgasm that was once building. Only a moment passes though, before Mistress comes back again, and out of the corner of your eye, the telltale gleam of the metal insert of the butt plug is the tinder that keeps the heat alive.

Mistress settles beside you and waves the cottontail plug so you can see it better, “It’s time. I think you’ve earned this.” You can only nod enthusiastically while she goes back and prepares the plug. “Let’s take this slow, so try to stay still.”

“I’ll try, Mistress.”

Gentle as she is, and as excited as you are, it doesn’t stop the light gasp when she places the lubed up plug to your ass, “Ready, baby girl?” She asks, gently.

You nod and grip the bed.

“Say it for me Princess. Use your words.”

“Yes, Mistress. I’m ready.”

“Good girl. Now just relax for me.”

The initial push is nothing until the halfway point when the stretch truly begins and you bury your face into the carpet that does little to hide the excitement when your lower lips are dripping with it. Every centimeter conquered sends lightning arc up your spine. The last push is when your ass fully accepts and tightens on the plug holding it firmly in place.

When you feel the fur of the tail brushing back and forth on your thighs and cheeks the pride you feel is second only to your breeding instincts wanting you to beg your Owner to play with your ass just a little more until that pressure building is released.

“Princess, you’re shaking, are you okay?”

“F-fuuuuuck, It’s bigger than I thought.” Even the slightest bit of squirming causes the smooth metal to press up against your sensitive walls, making you arch and fidget more, leading to uncontrollable cooing and groans. “M-Mistress...could you move it a little?” The faunus twists and pulls it just enough that you yelp without warning and buck backwards, “Please, more!” At this moment, you are the neediest you’ve ever been.

The plug is twisted more and Mistress pops it out before thrusting back in, slow yet firm, and you are just putty on the floor, leaking from your pussy and mouth dropped open to moan louder every time the head of the plug sinks home.

Only a minute passes of this thorough treatment before you shout, “Mistress, please, it’s too much, I can’t--” When you look at her face, it’s red and her ears are tracking every sound.

“Go ahead and cum as hard as you want.” Mistress growls, punctuating every other word with a solid thrust, demanding everything from you, with a rare intensity that the stoic faunus usually hides.

She hits a spot within and it all culminates in a opera-level scream that makes your vision blur on the edges. And due to how close she is, you can feel Mistress stiffen and shake right along with you.

* * *

 

It’s half an hour later and you and Mistress are laying on the couch, she’s being very careful to not nudge the plug still firmly inside you while you take sips of water and cuddle with her, “I didn’t know acousticophilia was a fetish. So those time when I cum hard and you change into different clothes was you not expecting to cum that hard?”

Mistress blushed a little and petted your fur a bit more, “Something like that. You just...sound really good when you scream.” It’s your turn to blush this time and you nuzzle into her chest to hide it. She chuckles and brushes your new tail, “I hope you’re ready for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You peek up at her face, only to see a predatory grin.

“It’s time for you to complete your graduation ceremony. And I aim to fuck the shit out of you to celebrate.”  


End file.
